Survival
by MrSpockify
Summary: Someone from Jack's past resurfaces and puts Ianto in danger, proving that even if he doesn't remember it, Jack's history is a dangerous thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **Hello! So, this is my very first Torchwood fic. It's rated T for now, but subject to change later on. Not sure if it will, but hey, we'll see.

Also, any sort of response to the story would be greatly appreciated if you can spare a moment. Whether you're saying you enjoyed it, or you loathed it, I'd like to know so I can make it better.

Thanks in advance for reading, and I hope you like it.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Tosh, it's coming your way!" Jack shouted from across the damp street, squinting through the drizzle. He hated to shoot his gun while it was so dark out of fear of hitting someone he didn't want to hit. He was tempted, though, as he saw a dark, shadowy figure making its way quickly to his teammate. He could see the uncoordinated limbs flailing as the creature sprinted towards the woman, and he raised his gun, aiming blindly as she screamed.

A loud _bang_ echoed through the streets, and Jack looked at his gun in confusion. He certainly hadn't pulled the trigger, he thought, looking up just in time to see the Weevil that had been running at Toshiko stumble and turn in circles, letting out a loud, angry wail. From behind a parked car, Ianto jumped up, his gun pointed at the creature and his legs bringing him to stand in front of Toshiko protectively. The Weevil was only distracted for a moment before it turned and headed back towards the two people, snarling viciously.

Jack sprinted in their direction, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the repellent. More shots rang out as Ianto tried to get the creature to turn away, but it was persistent in its attack. The captain tossed the small can to Toshiko, who grabbed it midair. He fingers fumbled for a moment, and Ianto screamed at her to hurry up as the Weevil drew uncomfortably near. Just as it came within arm's reach, her hand shot out, the can spraying a constant stream of repellent into the beast's face. It hissed, drawing backwards and curling in on itself, the head shaking back and forth madly. While it was sidetracked, Jack leaped in, pushing it onto the ground as Toshiko continued to spray it.

"It's about time," Owen said, jogging up to the group with Gwen at his heels. They were both stooped over, out of breath and panting, their guns held tightly in their hands. "We've been chasing that one for over an hour."

"How many is that? Three?" Gwen muttered, rubbing her neck and watching as Jack pulled the creature up and over to the van. He opened the back, shoving it in next to another howling, dazed Weevil. He slammed the door shut, turning to them.

"Four," Jack said, "counting the two back at headquarters." Ianto and Toshiko joined the small group, both looking visibly shaken. The man's hands were quivering as he put his gun away, and Toshiko's eyes were wide as she glanced around nervously.

"Why are their suddenly so many of them?" Gwen asked, furrowing her brow. Her dark hair was wet, and her bangs were plastered to her forehead. It was only drizzling, but after hours outside, every single one of the Torchwood members was soaking wet and extremely grumpy. Even Toshiko, who was always so sweet and easygoing, seemed to be tired of chasing Weevils around all night. She wiped off her glasses, but her damp shirt was no help, so she just put the wet, smeared glasses back on with a groan.

"I don't know," Jack admitted hesitantly. "Has there been any increase in rift activity that could have caused this?" he asked, turning to Toshiko. She was, of course, already ahead of him, shaking her head slowly.

"The rift hasn't fluctuated lately at all. No increase, no decrease," she said, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I've no idea what could have caused this." Suddenly a small device at her side beeped insistently, and she picked it up. She gave a futile attempt at wiping off the misty screen, then Toshiko sighed, looking up at everyone in turn. Her eyes finally met Jack's, and he frowned, holding up a finger.

"Don't tell me," he muttered tiredly, "there's a Weevil sighting." The group collectively died a little inside.

* * *

Ianto Jones hated Weevils, he had decided. They were far too human-looking for his taste. Not that he had a particular desired appearance for an alien, but he just didn't want them to be so similar to the human race. There were obvious differences, like the nose, or lack thereof, and the head shape in general. But whenever he looked closer, the Weevils never ceased to send a shiver down his spine. The eyes, for instance, always freaked him out. They were so… _human_. What was the difference, really, between the two species? Had humans just happened to outgrow that animalistic, vicious tendency? If they hadn't, would they be just like Weevils? Worse? It frightened him to think that one tiny tweak in Earth's history could have turned them into _this_.

Ianto jumped as a Weevil behind the clear enclosure in the Hub snarled, hurling itself towards him. The gnarled, yellow-tinted teeth were bared at him threateningly, sending another chill through his body. Behind the creature, four other Weevils growled, staring at him like he was a piece of meat. Wouldn't be the first time, he thought grimly, smiling to himself.

"Chatting with the prisoners?" Ianto side-stepped away from the cage like he should have been guilty, and he looked over at Jack as he entered the room. His boss smiled at him with that crooked smile he always had on and walked towards him with a certain look in his eyes. Ianto watched the blue eyes carefully, thinking he had seen that same look before, on someone else. He scrunched his eyebrows together and looked sideways at the Weevils, who were staring at him intensely. There it was, he thought, watching the dark eyes. There was a daunting, visceral passion in them. And when he looked back at Jack, he felt like a piece of meat again.

"Yeah," he muttered as Jack moved in closer. The man moved to stand behind him, and he wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. Then again, Ianto figured, it wasn't _entirely_ bad to be a piece of meat. His boss's breath tickled his ear teasingly, making his skin tingle. When he spoke, Jack's neck vibrated gruffly against his shoulder, making his heart thump.

"Why don't we," he whispered pointedly into his ear, raising the hairs at the back of Ianto's neck, "go to my office so you can help me fix my fax machine." Ianto mentally rolled his eyes at his metaphor. He and his innuendos…

"You don't have a fax machine," he replied, hiding a mischievous smile.

"Yan, let's pretend I have a fax machine for a moment," he whispered back, his arms tightening around his hips. And were they sliding lower? Ianto wondered, secretly hoping they were. "Now let's go fix it."

"But you don't have a fax—"

"Ianto, I swear to God I will go out and buy a fax machine later as long as you come into my office right now." As Jack's voice began to get desperate, Ianto decided to give up playing hard. It wasn't like he'd last longer in this game than his boss anyway. Jack's arms had tightened around his waist again, and his fingers were definitely playing with the Welshman's belt.

"Yeah," he whispered breathlessly as Jack's fingers began to unhook the belt, "okay." He was roughly turned so he was facing Jack, their noses barely a centimeter away. His back pressed against the clear barrier, and his boss pushed up against him, much to his appreciation.

Ianto Jones loved seeing Jack this closely, he decided. He loved seeing his pupils dilate madly, and his lips twitch fervently. He could feel his breath on his own lips, and he just wanted to get closer, though he wasn't sure that was physically possible. No matter what the situation, too, Jack always smelled absolutely incredible. Ianto couldn't exactly place what the smell was, though. He just smelled like _Jack_. And oh, God, did Jack smell magnificent.

A hot, sticky breeze crept over the back of Ianto's neck, and he froze, looking over his shoulder as Jack leaned in to pay some much-needed attention to his neck. When his eyes focused, Ianto was staring face-to-face with a snarling Weevil, its lips curled up around crooked teeth. Over its shoulder, he could see the four other creatures staring just as intensely, looking like they were about to pounce.

"Uh, Jack…" he muttered, slightly embarrassed when his voice cracked. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable with an audience." His boss reluctantly pulled his head up to look at the Weevils, and he chuckled in response.

"Then let's go to my office," he suggested, grabbing his hands and tugging him away. Ianto stumbled along beside him, a bit too distracted at the moment; Jack was pulling at his tie and simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt. The Welshman watched his concise fingers, and a sudden realization dawned on him. How long had Jack been doing this, exactly? He couldn't die, so he _had_ to be exceptionally old. And knowing his boss like he did, Jack was probably as sexually active then as he was now. That meant Ianto certainly wasn't the first person he'd been so… _actively involved_ with. Nor would he be the last. He was just one miniscule addition to a long, growing line of people.

"Oh, Jack, come on!" Owen exclaimed as Jack and Ianto staggered into the main area of the Hub, arms intertwined and lips pressed together. The Welshman looked up, humiliated. He had completely forgotten that Owen and Tosh were still here. The woman was staring wide-eyed at the two men, obviously taken back by their sudden entrance. Or, more likely, the _way_ they entered.

Ianto muttered his apologies as he tried to awkwardly pull away from his boss. Jack, however, had other ideas. He pulled his lover closer, grinning towards the two coworkers smugly. "Well, are you going to watch?" Owen and Toshiko quickly turned away, gathering their things and heading out. Owen stopped at the entrance, turning back and looking at his boss.

"Just give us a warning next time you and Fuck Buddy are going to get it on, eh?" Owen shook his head and exited, leaving the two men behind. Ianto stared for a moment, wondering if he had heard him right. Did he just call him… _Fuck Buddy_? What happened to Tea Boy? Was that all he was now was Jack's plaything? Ianto, crushed, looked over at his boss, and his stomach dropped. Jack was laughing. He thought this was funny. Ianto frowned, looking away to try and hide how much it actually hurt.

"Something wrong?" He looked back up at his boss, who was still smiling slightly. He tried to smile back as he shook his head.

"No, nothing," he muttered.

"Good," Jack replied, running his hand up Ianto's spine, his fingers cupping the back of his head and bringing his lips towards his own. "Then let's go to my office and fix that fax machine."

* * *

"Seriously, Tosh, they're like two animals in heat," Owen mused as the two coworkers headed out. The image of Jack and Ianto was burned permanently into the back of his mind, their limbs wrapped together and their faces pressed against each other forcefully. He shivered, trying to clear his mind.

"It keeps them out of trouble, though," Toshiko said, shrugging as the hidden door to the fake tourist help center slowly opened, granting them passage. They walked out, looked up, then froze. A colossal man, no older than thirty-five, was staring at them calmly, a warm smile on his face. His dark, chocolate-brown eyes drifted over to the shutting door, then wandered back and rested on the two shocked personnel.

"Hello," he greeted, and Owen brought himself out of his shock to step forward and take his hand. The man was… Well, he was monstrous. His hand alone dwarfed Owen's, and the doctor tried not to let it get him down too much. After all, the guy was nearly a foot taller than him.

"Hello, I'm," he paused for a moment, then smiled and continued, "I'm Ianto Jones. How may I help you?" Was this how it worked up here? No one besides Ianto had ever worked the help center before. They hadn't ever been told what to do. And they certainly hadn't been told what to do in a case like this. This man had just seen the secret door open; that wasn't suspicious at _all_.

"Nice to meet you, Ianto," the man said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His eyes darted back to the wall that had just opened, and he smiled slightly. "So," he started, looking down at 'Ianto', "where's that door lead?"

Owen searched for an explanation anywhere, looking to Toshiko for help. The woman stepped forward, obviously at a loss for words too. "What door?" she offered after a small moment, shrugging at Owen as if to say _it's better than nothing_…

The tall man just looked at the woman for a minute, then nodded slightly, slowly. "I see," he said in a gravelly voice.

"Well," Owen muttered, trying to remain calm. "Is there anything else we can help you with, Mister…." he trailed off, hinting that he wanted a name. The gentleman smiled politely and shook his head.

"No, thank you, Mr. Jones. I think I've got everything I need." He turned and walked out the door, leaving the two people to stare confusedly. Owen looked over at Toshiko, who looked a little stunned.

"Shit," he muttered after a few moments. "That didn't sound so good." Way to state the obvious, he thought grimly, running a hand over his face.

"Should we go tell Jack?" Toshiko asked, hooking a thumb behind her.

"Do you want to go down there and interrupt them right now?" Owen looked at her pointedly, and she shook her head understandingly, as if just remembering what was going on. "I'm sure it's nothing. The guy probably just thinks we're a couple of nuts with a hidden closet fetish or something."

"Yeah," Toshiko said, nodding mostly to reassure herself. "It's nothing. It'll be fine." They nodded to each other once, then left in silence.

* * *

"I swear to you, it's them."

"Are you sure?"

"The wall," there was a pause as the man gestured, "opened. Why else would someone hide a room behind a wall? It's them. It's Torchwood."

"Did you see anyone?"

"There was a man and a Japanese woman."

"Names?"

"One: Ianto Jones."

"Find him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The worst part of his relationship with Jack, Ianto had decided, was going home afterward. The captain had made it clear he could stay the night, but he didn't have any extra clothes to put on the next day. And why give Owen any more material to work with? It was nearly two in the morning now, and he hugged his arms to his chest, squinting through the darkness. Jack had obviously offered him a ride home, but he had declined, wanting to clear his head. Owen's hurtful words still echoed in his mind, making his stomach twist.

_Fuck Buddy…_ He still couldn't believe Jack hadn't stuck up for him. But the more he thought about it, the more Ianto began to think that's all he really was. They had sex, he left afterwards, then they would flirt lightly the next day with no mention of the night before. He felt silly for ever thinking he was anything more to the captain. He was a Fuck Buddy, plain and simple.

He wasn't proud, per say, of being put in that situation. If anything, it made Ianto feel appalled at himself. People were always told not to toss their bodies around. That sex was meant for two people who loved each other. Well, he thought grimly, we're halfway there. Then again, he'd decided to forget the Sex-Only-With-Love rule long ago, so he used that thought to finally decide that the situation was okay. That, and he really didn't want to stop. However humiliated he had felt when Owen insulted him, he still loved being with Jack. Despite knowing that he wasn't special because he was having sex with his boss, Ianto didn't think he was going to stop any time soon. It wasn't like he had anyone better.

So caught up in thoughts about his captain and his soft brown hair, hungry blue eyes, and that damned sexy coat, Ianto didn't notice the sleek black car trailing slowly, quietly, behind him. He was too busy picturing Jack naked and panting to notice the vehicle beginning to pull up beside him. And he was certainly too engaged in his daydreams to have noticed that the driver had been following him from the moment he left the door of the tourist center.

"Awfully late to be taking a stroll, isn't it?" Ianto, startled, looked to his right and backed away from the street. A stark-black car was hidden slightly by the night, but was there nonetheless. Leaning across from the driver's side of the car and peeking out the passenger window at him was a curly-haired man with big, dark eyes. He smiled in a friendly manner and looked at Ianto, waiting for a response.

"Awfully late to be taking a drive, too," he said, earning a chuckle from the other man. His voice was deep and smooth, melting through the air and settling warmly around Ianto.

"I work night shift at a factory up the road," he pointed with his thumb. "I'm taking my lunch break." Ianto started to step towards the car, tired of straining to hear him. When he came up to the passenger side, he peered in at the man, taking in his old-looking black sweatshirt and faded jeans. His curly hair was dark brown, matching his ebony eyes. They stared back at him, almost invisible in the night. "Why are _you_ out so late?" The man's voice was barely above a whisper, and he squinted up at Ianto curiously. His mind whirled as he tried to think of a reasonable explanation, though it was hard to think at all while he was so groggy. It _was_ two in the morning, after all.

"I, uh, was working late up at the tourist center. Just closed up a little while ago and thought I'd head home." That was believable, right? He studied the man's face closely, waiting for an indication that he thought he was lying. Luckily, there was none.

"Hop in. I'll give you a ride," he said, sitting back in his own seat. Ianto leaned down to look in at the man, ready to protest politely. The man held up his hand, looking at him sternly. "Don't argue, mate. It's late, dead cold, and you don't have a jacket. It's really no problem." Ianto was hesitant for a moment, then nodded submissively. He was incredibly tired, anyway. Sex with Jack had the tendency to wear him out.

"Thanks," he muttered, buckling his seat belt. The car started up, and the man drove off.

* * *

Jack was really starting to hate Weevils. The way their dark eyes followed his every move, the way bullets never seemed to affect them for very long, and especially the way their hot, rancid breath felt on his face when they lunged at him. He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the mangled teeth of one Weevil. It roared in response, taking a heavy step forward. Behind it, two other Weevils stared straight at him, exposing their fangs and hunching over, ready to spring.

"Why are there so many of you?" He shouted exasperatedly, pointing his gun at the closest. When the gunshot rang out, echoing in the dark alleyway, the Weevils sprang into action, running directly forward. Jack groaned and turned heel, sprinting off and avoiding boxes and trashcans.

He would have called in the other Torchwood members to help, but it was nearly three in the morning and he had figured he could handle a couple of pests. As he came up to a chain link fence, he wished at least one other person was there to help.

Jack jumped up, wrapping his fingers eagerly around the thin, cold metal. It shook under his weight, trembling back and forth as he tried to get his boot into one of the small diamonds so he could boost himself higher. Just when his fingers curled around the bar at the top of the fence, he felt a heavy weight around his ankle. He looked down, barely catching a glimpse of the Weevil's hungry eyes before he was violently pulled down.

Jack hollered out loudly as his head bounced off of the pavement like a rubber ball. But he set it aside, pulling himself up to stand. His vision was cross, and he strained to see anything clearly, though the strain was futile. Blinking hard, Jack backed away until his spine was pressed against the chain link fence. The metal diamonds dug into the back of his head, pressing against the already-present bruise and making him wince. That was the least of his worries, however, as he began to see clearly again.

The three Weevils roared in unison, sending a chill through Jack's body. As they lunged forward, he stared down the throat of one Weevil, sucking in a deep breath and shutting his eyes, waiting for the familiar darkness.

* * *

Ianto stared lazily out the car window, watching the blur of quick-moving trees and homes as he struggled not to fall asleep. That'd be one hell of a story; a complete stranger having to carry him off to bed because he had passed out cold. He felt a blush creeping up just thinking about it. To keep his mind clear, he tugged at his shirt collar and turned to the man beside him, clearing his throat.

"So," he started, catching a quick glimpse at his dark brown eyes before they turned back to the road ahead, "what's your name?" Ianto was slightly startled as he realized he didn't know the man's name. In fact, he hadn't a clue about this man at all. He had gotten into a complete stranger's car, then told him where he lived; his mother would be ashamed.

"Scott Walker," he replied smoothly, sending him a crooked smile. Scott had a sort of beard going on. It was past the stubble stage of facial hair, but not quite at the full-on beard phase. It was sexy. Ianto looked straight ahead, his eyes wide. He hadn't just thought that, had he? He was just tired, that was all. Just tired. "You?"

"Huh?" He looked back at the man, his jaw slack. Scott chuckled.

"Your name?"

"Oh, right," he muttered, pulling again at his shirt collar. Why was it so warm in there? "Jones. Ianto Jones."

"No shit?" Ianto looked over to the man beside him, furrowing his brow. Scott had a peculiar look in his face, like he was so shocked that that was his name.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no," he quickly replied, looking ahead at the road again. He couldn't manage to get rid of the goofy grin on his face, though, which made Ianto kind of nervous. "It's a nice name. Ianto Jones," he stretched out the syllables, trying on the name for size. He nodded approvingly, smiling at him in a friendly manner. His teeth were incredibly straight, the Welshman noticed.

He looked back out the window, deciding that fighting slumber was better than the awkward chat with the stranger. The moment he began to watch the houses, however, his felt his eyelids start to grow uncomfortably heavy, and he battled to keep them open.

"So you work night shifts at the tourist help center?" Ianto jerked his head up and blinked several times, trying immensely hard to stay awake. It took him a moment to realize the man had spoken to him.

"No," he said, yawning. "I mean, I work day shifts, just sometimes I work really late." He glanced out the window, noticing that they were, thankfully, nearly at his home.

"You must have a mean boss," Scott said, his voice unusually somber. When Ianto looked over, the dark eyes were staring at him inquiringly. The Welshman looked away again, getting an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"No, he's alright," he muttered, leaving it at that. The black car pulled up into his driveway, much to his relief. He mumbled a quick thanks and grabbed the door handle, stopping only when a large fist wrapped around his other wrist. He followed the huge arm over to Scott, who was smiling with his very white, very straight teeth.

"Are you free tomorrow for lunch?"

"Um…"

"Why don't I come and pick you up, and we can go have a bite to eat? Your lunch time, of course. I promise I won't show up at your doorstep at two in the morning," he insisted, chuckling deeply. The sounded vibrated throughout his body, even passing through his hand to Ianto. The tremor sent a small shiver down Ianto's back, though he wasn't sure why.

"Uh," he was about to argue, but he knew Scott would persist, and he wasn't awake enough to dispute convincingly. With a sigh, he nodded slightly, making the other man grin.

"Good. I'll pick you up, then." Ianto nodded, getting out of the car and shutting the door behind him. Even as he opened his front door and listened to the black car drive off, he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Scott seemed like a nice enough guy, though he was perhaps just a tad pushy; but that didn't explain the small fear hiding in his gut.

Deciding to ignore it, Ianto shut his door and shuffled off, glad to be able to go to bed.

* * *

That first breath always hurt the most, Jack thought as he sucked in a lungful of air. It seared down his throat, setting off all of his newly awakened nerves and making everything expand painfully. After being dead for a little while, his body tended to get pretty comfortable, becoming stiff and silent. That first breath always intruded on that comfort; it moved everything that didn't want to be moved.

He groaned as he sat up, stretching his aching muscles and tensing every time something cramped. No matter how many times he died, he'd never get used to feeling like he did now. His body tingled with every movement, and his skin felt like it was stretching out. When he stood, pinpricks picked obnoxiously at his feet. He looked down at himself and sighed.

"Well, damn," he muttered, pulling at the tattered, bloody clothing; nothing was intact. His white undershirt was still sticky with the red substance, and it clung to his chest like a nuisance. His pants were ripped and torn down the sides, splattered with blood and God-knows what else. He tugged at his blue button-up shirt, which was completely soaked in blood and littered with Weevil bite marks. Even his beloved coat had clumps of dried Jack all over.

He was afraid to look down, but he knew he had to. Much to his dismay, Jack was standing in a deep pool of crimson liquid, and he hated reminding himself that it was his own. The Weevils had really done some damage to him.

"Mess with me, fine," he said with a frown. His finger slipped into a hole at the crook of his elbow, and beneath it he felt his own flesh. "But lay a finger on my coat, and you've just crossed the line."

For the first time since the painful first breath, Jack looked up, staring at the sky. It was brighter than it was before, though it still couldn't be any later than five in the morning. He gave himself one more glance, then shrugged and walked off, trying to ignore the crude scent he was emitting. He only hoped nobody would stop him on the way back.

He had most definitely lost the three Weevils. As he walked through the streets, there was no sign of them. No screaming, no chaos, and no frightened people running for their lives. Actually, he was the only atypical thing around. He still couldn't get a grip on why there were suddenly so many of the damned things. They were usually fairly good at keeping out of the way; they'd just stay in the sewers or something. Even when they _did_ come out, they'd stay somewhere relatively deserted. But these Weevils were just roaming around the streets. He just didn't get it.

As he stepped up onto the invisible lift, Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He paused, his eyes sweeping the layout ahead of him. Everything seemed normal, apart from one thing. He pretended to ignore it, but the sleek black car not one hundred meters away seemed to blare at him that something was wrong. He pressed a small button, and the lift began to descend. As his head disappeared under the pavement, he couldn't help but wonder if the person in the car could see him, and wonder what they were looking for.

* * *

"I need him."

"I'm working on it; it'll be just a little longer."

"How much longer?"

"I need a little more information, then I'll get him. I just need some time."

"We'll have all the time in the world once we've got him."

"I know; that's why I'm doing this in the first place."

"Just promise me you'll hurry. _Please_."

"Fine, I promise."

"Good. Now go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **Oops! Meant to upload this chapter a bit sooner (Monday), but things got in the way. Sorry about that...

But never mind that. This is edited and ready for reading, so please (hopefully) enjoy. :)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Gwen arrived at the Hub a little later than usual; Rhys had coaxed her into staying for an actual breakfast for once. The massive door rolled open with a low groan and she stepped forward quickly, hoping to get by without being noticed. Perhaps nobody had realized she was late. Sometimes that happened at other jobs, right? An employee could sneak in a tad late without being caught? She had forgotten, however, other jobs were not Torchwood.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Owen announced loudly, looking up from his station with a smirk apparent on his face. "Jack," he called, leaning back in his chair, "Gwen's here." He sniggered in her direction and gave a smug grin. "You are in _trou_-_ble_," he sang, stretching out the words happily.

"You sound like a child," Gwen replied, though she hated to admit she had small bit of fear lingering in the back of her mind. She'd never been late before; in fact, no one was ever late. What did that say about the punishment? She tried not to let her expression give away her distress as the captain's voice sounded from his office.

"I don't care," he yelled, and Owen's mood seemed to visually plummet. "Somebody get me Ianto." Gwen smiled at Owen haughtily, receiving an exasperated grunt in response.

"Bollocks," he muttered, turning away in his seat. He waited a moment, then swung back around to face Gwen, pointing at her with a pencil. "The only reason you're in the clear is because he's horny. Any other time…" he trailed off with a frustrated gesticulation.

"I'll get him," Gwen called out to Jack, sending Owen one more snicker before she headed to the faux tourist center. When she got up there, the room was silent besides a small buzzing noise that emitted from a single lamp on the front desk. The top of the desk was littered with various pamphlets and papers suggesting local attractions and restaurants to visit. Beside it, a bulletin board was in a similar state, tacked with so many sheets and pictures you couldn't see the actual board behind them. At closer inspection, Gwen found that the papers were actually filled with accurate information, and she wondered how long it had taken Ianto to do all of this. He really did run this place, didn't he?

"Gwen?" She looked up in time to see Ianto come through the beaded entrance to the front desk, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. The strings of beads swung behind him rhythmically, slowly coming to a halt as he sipped at his drink.

She opened her mouth to speak, then paused, smiling. "Is that all you do up here is make yourself coffee?" He didn't reply, but just smiled behind his mug. "Well, Jack's calling for you," she said, then she waited for Ianto to press the rustic red button behind his desk to open the wall behind her, and they went down to the Hub together.

* * *

Ianto walked into Jack's office, giving the place a small once-over while he walked through the door. His eyes skimmed over his desktop, and he inwardly groaned. Why Jack couldn't keep his papers in order, Ianto had no clue. The captain was such a well-dressed and proper-looking man, but he was a slob when it came to organization. There was a filing cabinet just to his left. Why weren't the folders in it?

"You wanted me, sir?" he piped up after coming to a halt at the front of the desk. It was even worse closer up. Ever so sneakily, he began to tidy up, stacking the papers and setting them into piles. He hated to think that he'd have to stay longer after everyone else left... again. Owen was hard enough to pick up after. Add Jack to that, and he'd be there for… Ianto sagged as he did the math.

"Yes, I did," Jack said, standing up from his chair and leaning forward on the desk. His hands landed on the newly created piles of paper, scattering some of them about. Ianto took a deep breath and tried not to let it get to him, and instead just looked at anything but the desk and Jack. He settled for the chair behind the desk with the iconic military-style coat draped over the back. Though, something was a little off about it. He squinted and looked closer, his eyes growing wide as he caught a glimpse of bite marks stained crimson on the arm.

"What happened?" he questioned worriedly, stepping around the desk and snatching the coat. At closer inspection, he located several other bite marks and gory stains, each of them making his heart thump nervously. His fingers picked at the frayed sleeves, and he dusted his thumb over dried blood.

"Some Weevils," Jack said calmly, taking the coat back and waving the problem off with his hand casually. He turned back to the nervous Welshman, excitement in his blue eyes. "That's not why I called you down here. Owen, Tosh, and Gwen are going out to lunch today. With them gone, we'll have the whole Hub to ourselves for a while," his eyebrows raised pointedly and he grinned. "Perhaps a game of naked hide-and-seek is in order?"

Ianto had to look away for a moment for two reasons. The first being that he could barely stand to look at his boss in fear he might aim a punch right at his cocky face. The Hub was empty, so he just expected Ianto to come running? He didn't even ask if he had any plans. The second reason for having to look away being he was afraid he might get coaxed to stay by those bright blue eyes. And if he did, he knew he'd never be able to live with himself.

"Actually," he said quietly, looking down, "I have lunch plans."

"Oh," Jack sounded disappointed and shocked, much to his annoyance. When Ianto glared at him, the captain tried to seem nonchalant. "I didn't, uh… I didn't know…"

"That I had a life outside of picking up after everyone and fetching you coffee?" Ianto felt his cheeks grow pink when he realized he had just snapped at his boss.

"No," Jack said sternly. "I _meant_ I didn't know you had any plans today." The office was awkwardly quiet as neither of the men wanted to make eye contact or break the silence. Just when Ianto was about to leave the room to seek out something that didn't cause him to want to perform some act of violence, the captain spoke up again, calmer this time. "So what're your plans?" In other words, _who are you seeing?_

Ianto opened his mouth, about to say something like _a friend _when he paused, realizing he had no idea what to call the man. Stranger he met on the street who convinced him to go to lunch? Factory worker who gave him a ride home in the middle of the night? "Scott Walker," he muttered, figuring it was the best answer. "He gave me a ride home last night."

"Never heard of him," Jack replied a little too quickly, his voice slightly irritated.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I forgot to introduce you." Ianto's heart drummed heavily as he internally scolded himself. What the hell did he think he was doing? The Welshman could feel his face heating up and he hoped to any god that was listening that he wouldn't be fired on the spot.

The captain, fortunately, didn't get cross. He just looked at his friend with an unreadable expression, shoving his hands in his pockets. His chin tilted up slightly, like he was contemplating what to say, and his eyes never left the other man. "Are you okay?" Jack asked slowly, choosing his words with care. Ianto avoided looking in his direction, and stared down at his own tie.

"Excuse me," he said, then let himself out. When he was back in the safety of his lonely tourist center office, he let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair.

* * *

Jack Harkness wasn't usually the jealous type; and he wasn't one now, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. Gwen, Owen, and Tosh had left a while ago for lunch, and Ianto had left shortly after them, exiting the tourist center with a goliath of a man. Not that the captain had been watching him on the CCTV or anything. That would mean he cared, which he did not.

Well, he corrected himself inwardly, he _did_ care, but he certainly wasn't jealous. Ianto was a good employee and a trusted friend, so it was only natural that Jack cared about who he was hanging out with. Reassured that what he was doing was appropriate, the captain poked at the keyboard beneath his fingers, watching the name appear on the computer screen before him.

_Scott Walker_. He had no idea who this guy was; he hadn't even heard the name before. When his middle finger clicked the enter key, nearly ninety results for people with the name Scott Walker appeared before him. He let out an exhausted breath, figuring it was going to be a long lunch break.

* * *

Scott had a certain air about him, Ianto had noticed. From the moment he got into the man's sleek black car, he had been at ease and comfortable. The massive man oozed calm and contempt, and the Welshman found it impossible not to have a good time. He had planned on going out for a brief lunch then getting back to work as quickly as possible. He even intended on getting back to the Hub in time to have a quick round of hide-and-seek with Jack, though he hated to admit it. However, when Scott brought Ianto into a diner and offered to buy him a meal, his plans shifted and he forgot entirely about his and the captain's game.

Ianto made a mental note of the other man regarding his actions during their conversations. Scott was definitely a people-person; his social skills were flawless. The man didn't speak too much, yet he spoke when it was appropriate. He was neither too formal, nor too laid-back. He even had eye contact down pat. Ianto was stunned; he was the perfect gentleman.

It was different than hanging out with Jack, too, he noticed. Well, not that Jack had ever taken him out like this. Ianto even considered this instance to be a date; his meal was being paid for, he was certainly flirting, and Scott seemed to be flirting back. He had believed Jack to be the only other man he was attracted to, but his opinion was quickly changing as the lunch progressed. Scott wasn't subtle about his affection in public, either, unlike Jack. Sure, the captain was obvious about his… _friendliness _toward Ianto in the Hub in front of other Torchwood members, but when it came to the real world, Jack hardly even touched him when others were around. And here Scott was, reaching over the small table and grabbing Ianto's tie.

"What are you doing?" The Welshman grabbed the other man's wrist, subconsciously checking over his shoulder to see if anyone had been watching. His fingers didn't wrap all the way around his wrist, and were a good four centimeters apart at the nearest point.

"You need to relax," he said smoothly, his warm eyes surprisingly penetrating. Ianto, slightly hypnotized by the confident gaze, let his fingers slip off the wrist and down to the table. He focused on holding a cold fork in his right hand as Scott's fingers loosened his tie. His knuckles brushed up against his throat, and he hoped the tall man couldn't feel his erratic heartbeat through the artery by his collar. "There," he said, leaning back in his chair to revel in his work. "Do you have to wear suits every day at work?"

"Well, no," Ianto muttered, suddenly very aware of the loosened cloth around his neck. "I just do. I mean, I like to, I suppose." He grabbed a chip, not eating it, but just using it to push others around on his plate.

"You mean to tell me," he started, smiling crookedly, "you _prefer_ to dress nicely even though you don't have to? There has to be a better explanation." Ianto snuck a glance up at his company, but instantly regretted it. His dark eyes caught his attention, and he found it impossible to look away, which made it hard to hide his embarrassed smile. "What is it?" Scott asked, grinning wider.

"Well, I…" he trailed off, feeling his face grow pink with a blush.

"What? Come on, tell me," the giant man insisted, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on the table. Ianto looked up again, dropping the chip and lacing his fingers together nervously. As much as he didn't want to say it, he knew he was probably going to end up giving him the information. Scott seemed to have an irresistible persistence; hell, he'd convinced the Welshman to go to lunch with him and he didn't even know anything but his name.

"One time, a while ago," he hesitated, chuckling at his own ridiculousness, "my boss told me I looked good in a suit. From then on I just didn't stop wearing them." He looked over at Scott, who was smiling as if he was holding back laughter. "I know. It's silly."

"No, it's not," he insisted, though his tone gave away his amusement. Ianto tilted his head back and groaned, covering his face. Scott apologized and was silent until he got his bearings, then tried again. "Really, it's not that bad. He must be something special, though."

"Who?"

"Your boss. You must really like him," he said, calmer now.

Ianto was brought back to reality by this comment. He thought back to Jack, who was all alone at the Hub. He considered what they might be doing had he chosen to stay instead of go off to lunch, but decided it wasn't an appropriate thing to think about in public. "Yeah," he answered distantly, still contemplating their relationship status.

"Are you two…?" Scott trailed off, but he knew what he meant. The only problem was answering it.

"No," he offered quickly, then reconsidered. "Well, we… It's complicated." Ianto looked over to the other, staring pointedly and hoping he's drop the subject.

"In what way?" Scott was more serious now, and he was leaning forward, his eyes focused.

Ianto stuttered at first, unsure of how to respond. Usually the man was so perceptive of whether or not to change the subject; he had been that way all lunch, other than now. "It's a little personal," he muttered, moving his hands to his lap.

"So you two are in a," his arms gestured, as if he was grappling for the right words, "purely sexual relationship?" Ianto breathed deeply, trying to not look around him. He could almost feel the stares from the tables surrounding his own, and he didn't think he'd be able to bear eye contact.

"I think I'd like to go now." Ianto stood, pushing in his chair and jerking his tie tighter self-consciously. He waited for Scott to call the waitress and give her the money— he'd be damned if he paid after _that_ conversation. The walk to the car was completely silent, and Ianto wondered where the man's wonderful social skills were now.

* * *

Jack had it narrowed down to three men by the name Scott Walker. All three of them lived in Cardiff, though he easily scratched one of them off the list. The man was paralyzed from the neck down due to a skiing accident, so the captain assumed he hadn't been driving recently. He pulled up information on one of the other two men, scanning the results quickly. He was forty-five, which seemed a little old for Ianto. But it wasn't a date, was it? He dismissed the thought, thinking it didn't matter if it was anyway, and continued reading. This Scott had recently worked at a nearby bank, though he was discharged for accusations of murder. He was currently in prison for that same murder, and would not be released for another seventeen years.

The captain nodded slowly and closed out of this person's file, hoping that Ianto wasn't out right now with an escaped killer. He opened the final Scott Walker profile, praying that this person was normal. When he clicked on the link, however, he received a blank profile. Someone had deleted the information.

Jack sat up straight, suddenly interested. He tried troubleshooting and checking the history of the file, but whoever had removed it knew what they were doing. That thought, in turn, made him very nervous. The thought of Ianto being out with someone he didn't know anything about was unsettling, to say the least.

He grabbed his cellphone and dialed a number, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to try to find the file. His lips stuck out slightly as he concentrated, and his brow furrowed firmly.

"Toshiko," he greeted, grabbing the phone. "I need your computer expertise."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Scott said… again. He'd been apologizing from the moment they got into the car, and his relentless regrets refused to end, no matter how much Ianto begged. "I hadn't realized you two were so close. I shouldn't have asked about your relationship."

"We're not…" Ianto sighed in resignation, hiding his face from the other man. He pressed his cheek up against the window, closing his eyes and wishing he was back in the Hub. He opened his eyes again, looking out at the city. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something tall and silver. Ianto sat up slightly, turning in his seat so he could see out the back window. When his eyes focused he stared back at the Torchwood Tower, the silver plates on the exterior glinting in the sunlight.

"The H— tourist help center is back there," he said, pointing in its direction. Scott didn't acknowledge that he had spoken, and when he repeated himself, the large man gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. Ianto stared forward at the road, feeling his heartbeat increase substantially. "So," he muttered, swallowing hard, "I'm guessing you're not taking me back then." He didn't have to look at Scott to know the answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Toshiko, anything?" Jack stood over the Japanese woman's shoulder anxiously, as he had been for the past three minutes while she tapped fervently away at the keyboard. Her dark eyes darted from her fingers to the screen and back again at a fast pace, and her mouth was parted slightly in her concentration.

"I'm trying," she said steadily, though her tone was laced with annoyance. She hated having people breathing down her back, though she understood his concern, so she let it slide just this once.

From across the Hub, Owen and Gwen were pretending they were busy, though neither of them had anything to do. They were worried now, and on the brink of panic. When they first came into the Hub, they jokingly complained about having to leave lunch early. But when they saw the look on Jack's face, they realized it wasn't a joke. At first the missing file seemed a little strange, but now it was starting to become terrifying. It was about fifteen minutes past the end of their lunch break, and Ianto still wasn't back. He was always on time.

"Try harder!" Everyone flinched at the captain's outburst. Toshiko took a deep breath, her fingers shaking. She turned in her seat and looked up at Jack sternly, on hand still on the keyboard.

"Jack, this was done with professional material that would typically be available to institutes like Torchwood," she paused, letting that sink in. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. I don't know if I can resurface the file."

Jack stared at her, his face grim as he thought. After a moment, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a scowl and he shook his head. "Then what good are you?" he muttered, then turned and walked away to his office.

Toshiko turned back to the computer screen, her face expressionless as she typed on the keyboard, her fingers slower than before. Gwen walked up behind her carefully, and Owen watched from the medical area, still pretending he was busy. "He didn't mean it, Tosh," she started, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's just upset."

Toshiko nodded, biting her upper lip. "I know," she said quietly, evenly, her voice as soft as ever. Gwen walked off, leaving the woman to continue her work on the missing file.

* * *

"Don't bother; phones won't work in here," Scott said confidently, though Ianto still dialed the number on his phone. When he held it up to his ear, all he received was a steady _beep_… _beep_… _beep_… He put the phone away and paused for a moment, trying to clear his mind. Here he was, in a car with a man who just bought him lunch, being taken who-knows where. Simple.

And terrifying. He could hear his erratic heartbeat in his ears, and it pounded away, driving him mad. With a deep breath, he grabbed his seat belt and tried to click it open. Nothing happened, of course.

"It's locked, so don't strain yourself," Scott's voice said, and his composure only made Ianto more scared. It was times like these where he wished he had brought along a gun. He just hadn't thought he'd needed one.

* * *

Jack was usually able to suppress any kind of remorse he felt; he had to, really, considering his condition. He didn't die, so he was bound to come across situations where he ended up being a member of the guilty party. But when it came to human beings, he had a harder time stifling it. Being in Torchwood didn't really help things, either. Everyone around him constantly got hurt while he just stood to the side, perfectly fine. And when he was fond of said hurt person, it made things that much harder.

He was sitting in his office chair, leaning back and staring at the cluttered desk in front of him. Papers lay on top of one another all over the place, pencils were scattered around underneath piles of files and documents, and he couldn't help but chuckle sadly at it. Ianto was always the one to clean up after his sorry ass, even when he treated him like shit.

Jack leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands and running them over his tense features. He really did treat him like shit, didn't he? Making him stay late to clean after they had sex? Sending him on errands because he was too lazy to do them himself? Treating him like a fucking _slave_?

He had to stop doing this to himself. Jack sat back and took a deep breath, trying to forget everything at least for the moment. He was stressed as it was, so there was no need to add guilt to it all.

He turned to his computer and brought up recent CCTV tapes, trying to find the last video of Ianto. He found the images of the Welshmen in the tourist center before lunch, before he went out with Scott Walker, whoever he was. Jack watched it for a few minutes, pretending it was live so he wouldn't feel the guilt again. A new figure came into the picture, engulfing everything, practically. The huge man had wide shoulders and a head of curly hair, and he leaned on the front desk casually as if he went there every day. Jack assumed he was Scott.

Ianto and Scott spoke for a couple minutes, then they left together. The captain switched to the parking lot tapes so he could see them go off. Maybe if he caught a glimpse of some sort of struggle between them it'd confirm his suspicions. But there was no struggle. In fact, if he looked hard enough, he thought he could see the pixelated image of Ianto laughing before he willingly got into the black car. He waited until the car drove out of the shot before pausing the video and shaking his head. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No fight, no speeding off, no violence.

Jack rewound the tape and paused it at the moment where Ianto had one hand on the door, ready to close it. He stared hard for a moment, then his eyes grazed over the vehicle and he froze.

"What the hell?" he whispered, pressing his tongue to his cheek. The more he stared, the more he knew that the car was the same one from the night he was mauled by Weevils. The sleek black car glared back at him, taunting him. Why was it outside the Hub that night? What were they looking for?

He pressed play again, this time looking at Scott. The man opened his door and squeezed himself inside, though he looked rather strange doing so. Not because he was so large, but because of his odd position. Jack rewound the tape and played it again slowly, watching carefully. He paused at the moment where Scott was just beginning to get in the car, and his breath caught. The man was staring straight into the camera, his face slightly blurred by the grainy screen. But sure as day, he was staring right into the lens, a large grin plastered on his face.

The longer he watched, the more unnerved he became. There was something going on with this 'Scott Walker' guy, he just needed to find out what it was.

* * *

Scott Walker was a goliath. His jean-clad legs were crammed up against the steering wheel because they ran out of room by the pedals, and half the time he just drove with his knees. His wide shoulders threatened to invade Ianto's space, and his elbow bumped against his arm painfully every time the guy had to turn his gargantuan body to look out the back window. Stray curls on his head brushed up against the top of the car, and the Welshmen wondered whether or not the man felt like a whale in a fish bowl.

How he didn't feel extremely unsettled by this guy in the first place, Ianto had no idea. It was strange how quickly his image of the man had changed, though. Now his dark eyes were intimidating and harsh, and Ianto was more than acutely aware of the fact that the man would easily be able to take him out. He could probably just lean on him and the Welshman would collapse.

"Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Scott spoke up sternly, putting the car into park. Ianto tried to figure out where they were, but it looked like any other alley. He sighed and focused on not letting this man crush his face with two fingers.

"What exactly does each decision imply?" He spoke slowly, trying to bide himself some time. Perhaps if he could distract him long enough, he'd be able to somehow propel himself up and out of the car window, then miraculously turn and escape the larger man's onslaught and run all the way back to the Hub to get help.

Yeah… Maybe.

"Well," Scott started, shifting in his seat and making Ianto's heartbeat spike drastically. Every little move made him nervous. "You can either get out of the car and come along with me like a good boy," he said, speaking in a tone that was not rude, but still firm, "or I can knock you out and drag you." He didn't make any threatening move, but his stare was enough to scare Ianto into nodding robotically.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? Not this situation in particular, but Torchwood in general. Why had he done this anyway? Certainly not the thrill, because he was terrified, and he hated it. Definitely not the challenge, because he was perfectly content running the little tourist help center; he didn't need the dangerous half of his job. So why was he here? What the hell kept him putting himself in these kinds of situations?

"Get out of the car and come with me," he ordered, unlocking the doors with a click. Ianto watched as the man maneuvered himself out of his own door, and couldn't help but be reminded of clown cars. "I said get out," he directed again, and the Welshmen exited the car as quickly as possible, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice a little shakier than he would have hoped.

"You don't need to know," Scott replied coolly, starting to walk deeper into the alley. Ianto took small footsteps in his direction, but he turned his head to look back at the car. It took up most of the width of the passageway, but there was about half a meter of leeway on one side. He could easily fit through.

"Why do you need me?" he asked, hoping to distract the man with questions.

"You also don't need to know that," he called over his shoulder, disappearing further into the shadows. Ianto's heart thumped painfully in his chest, and he was absolutely positive he was going to die at that moment, but he took advantage of Scott's distance and pivoted his body toward the car. When he took off, his arms swung at his sides and his feet pounded loudly on the pavement, but he felt like he was going way too slow. He turned his body to sidestep the car, and as his back scraped lightly against the brick wall and his knees knocked up against the car, he became extremely aware of the fact that there were no footsteps following him. Goddamn, he thought proudly. I'm going to get away with this.

_Bang_. Ianto heard the noise and registered what it was before he felt it. He even got to the other side of the car before he could actually feel anything. The sound was obviously a gunshot, and gunshots were always followed by excruciating pain. He could barely turn away towards the alley opening to make another futile attempt at escaping before he felt the pain. He put pressure on his leg to take off running, and he felt it; a hair-raising, sharp twinge at first, but it quickly changed for the worse. He felt like his entire leg was snapping in half, and the spasm travelled up his thigh, through his chest, and ended at his jaw, where he ground his teeth together in an attempt to stifle a cry out. Now he could feel everything; the muscles giving way in his calf, the bone splintering a fraction, the bullet resting calmly in his leg. He tried to run, despite the wound, but didn't get one step further before he collapsed. When his leg hit the ground, he couldn't hide the scream that bubbled up behind his lips, so he just shouted as loudly as he could, hoping to get some attention from anyone who wasn't his captor.

The world around him spun for a moment, whirling and blurring everything together into one big, dark mass. When it calmed again, he was upright, staring at a face, and his back was grinding up against the brick wall. Scott's hand was pressing against his chest tightly, holding him up to the wall with ease. The man said something, but the only thing Ianto could hear was his heartbeat, which felt like it was coming from his leg. The area where the bullet had entered his calf was pulsing agonizingly slowly, and it was the only thing he could possibly focus on.

He could vaguely feel something slam against his head, and he assumed he had fallen to the concrete ground by the way his head had just bounced slightly. When he tried to open his eyes, he found that he couldn't, and it was too much work anyway so he gave up and just kept them closed. After a short moment, everything went dark as he lost consciousness.

* * *

Gwen was torn between loving her job and absolutely hating it. On one hand, the opportunities that arose for her to partake in were once in a lifetime, not to mention so unbelievably fanciful it was almost funny. Then again, there were always moments when she wished she had never been so persistent in finding Jack after she saw the Torchwood team for the very first time. If she had only been a little less curious, she might not be fending off a brutal alien with the contents of her pockets at the moment.

Yeah, she currently hated her job.

"Tosh, look out," Owen called from beside Gwen, and both of them glanced over at the Japanese woman. She looked up just in time to see a Weevil running towards her. With a surprised grunt, she slammed her laptop shut and swung it viciously, barely missing the face of the alien. It reeled backwards with a growl, then seemed to decide Toshiko wasn't worth it and turned to attack Jack.

He was the whole reason they were in this situation anyway, Gwen thought, swinging her empty gun at a nearby Weevil, hoping it'd be intimidated. Jack had run into the middle of the Hub, talking nonsense about some random black car and insisting they all go looking for said car. Not twenty minutes later, they were faced with three Weevils, and not three more minutes later, they were all out of bullets and still trying to fight off the trio. And they hadn't found the car.

No one on the team said anything about the car, but each of them assumed it had something to do with Ianto. There was an unspoken worry for the missing team member, probably unspoken because none of them wanted to bring it up. At least, not around Jack; they knew how the captain felt about the Welshman, and they knew he'd be sensitive about the subject. He was probably taking the loss the hardest.

As if to back up her notion, Jack shouted something inarticulate and tried to run past a Weevil. In response, the creature lashed out its hand, leaving two long, bloody marks on the man's face. Any other day and Jack would have been able to dodge it or avoid being lashed out at altogether. He was distracted.

"Get to the Hub," he said breathlessly, pulling Toshiko along beside him.

* * *

"There has to be some sort of reason so many Weevils are showing up," Gwen said for the umpteenth time, earning a snort from Owen. She sent him a glare and turned back to Jack. "They're coming into open areas."

"I know," the captain replied, running two fingers over his cheek. There was nothing there, but he still half-expected the scratches to be there. He'd never get used to healing so quickly; it was too unusual. "But there's no increase in rift activity," he flicked his head to Toshiko, "is there?" She shook her head with a sad smile, looking as perplexed as everyone else. "The Weevils we're seeing are already here."

The three other members of Torchwood started off on a conversation about Weevils, bouncing silly ideas off of each other to try to figure out what was going on. Jack nodded and shook his head along with them when it was necessary, but wasn't actually listening to them. He was too busy trying not to think about Ianto.

And failing.

Ianto had had combat training, just like the rest of them had, so he could surely hold his own in a fight. He didn't have training against somebody that was six-foot-six, however, and if even a small fraction of Scott Walker's body mass was muscle…

"…coming from the sewers?" Jack blinked and looked up, realizing everyone was staring at him expectantly. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to think up anything that sounded more intellectual than "Huh?"

"What?" Jack tried to ignore the chuckles that Owen wasn't even bothering to stifle; he'd get him back later by forcing him to stay late to clean or something.

Gwen gave Jack a strangled look, her eyes giving away her irritation. When she spoke, her voice was slow and emphasized, like she was speaking to a child. The captain let it slide and just focused on what she was saying. "There's no increase in rift activity, which means the Weevils were already here. When I first met you, you told me that they lived in the sewers. That means—"

"That _means_," the captain took over, his lips pursing as he thought, "the Weevils are coming out of their home." He stood up from his seat, unable to contain himself. A faint smile made its way over his features as he grew more excited, and everyone else in the room vanished from his thoughts. At the moment, he was strictly speaking to himself. "But why would they come out now? They never come out, especially not all at once."

"Unless," Gwen interrupted, leaning forward in her chair. But Jack didn't need her help making the conclusion. With an enthusiastic grin and gesture, he cut the woman off.

"Unless something, or some_body_, is driving them out. That's it," he exclaimed. "The sewers are our answer."

* * *

**Notes: **Because when _aren't _sewers the answer?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **Well, firstly, sorry this chapter is so small.

Also, warning for this chapter if you are squeamish! I'm not very squeamish myself, so I don't know how bad this will be for those who are (or even if it's bad at all). But just in case, _be warned. _

Because of this chapter, I considered making this story M-rated, just for the graphic nature and/or language. I think I'll keep it T for now. Any opinions about that? If you think I should change it or keep it the same rating, please let me know. I just want to make sure it's rated correctly.

Anyway, read on, my friends!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Shit, it hurt. Holy motherfucking God, everything hurt. His head, his leg, his arms, his wrists… Everything. Hurt.

Ianto woke unsteadily, but he didn't open his eyes just yet. He clung desperately to the rapidly-fading unconsciousness, wishing it had lasted much longer. As the last shred of his sleep was washed away by the massive ocean that was his all-encompassing pain, he lifted his head. Then instantly regretted it.

His heartbeat pounded severely behind his eyes and at the back of his head, where he assumed bruises were forming. He could feel a swollen lump slightly above his temple, and it throbbed along to the beat of his heart as well. Ianto tried to focus on those little things rather than the biggest discomfort of them all.

His leg. His fucking _leg_.

He shifted his hips to get more comfortable, and a sharp stab exploded from his left calf. The jolt made Ianto's eyes snap open and he gasped loudly, holding back a moan. He froze, not even breathing, as he waited for the pain to subside. It refused to yield, and he had to force himself to breathe. Breath after breath, Ianto swore the pain kept getting worse. He looked down, catching a glimpse of his bloodied pant leg, tattered in places and stiff with dried blood. Not at all calmed by the sight, he leaned back and clenched his jaw shut.

"Good morning," a low voice said, startling the Welshman. He looked in the direction of the sound, trying to squint through the darkness. The voice obviously came from Scott Walker, but he could barely see the outline of the huge man.

Where was he, anyway?

He was hanging from a wall; that much was easy to deduce. Around his wrists he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs digging into his skin and leaving abrasions. His lifted his fingers to feel a metal pipe that the cuffs were around, the thing holding him fast to the wall. He was hanging low enough that his knees almost touched the ground, so his legs were splayed awkwardly in front of him, his left lying more inelegantly than the other. Through his shirt he could feel his shoulders and back scraping against a rough wall, made of something that felt like concrete. When he squinted at the ceiling he could see it sloped down at the sides like a tunnel. At one end was a turn, leading God-knows where, and at the other a plain wall, cutting off the shaft.

He shifted in the restraints once more, accidentally twisting and dragging his leg closer. The harsh pain echoed throughout his entire body, and he couldn't hold back the curse that came to his lips. He groaned as it became acutely focused in on his calf, and his fingernails dug into his palms.

He could feel everything in his leg. The gaping hole where someone had probably dug their fingers in to extract the bullet, the dried blood stiffening his sock, the fracture in his bone that radiated a sharp pang.

"Sorry about that," Scott spoke again, stepping forward. Ianto craned his head to peer upwards into his face. The soft light that filtered in from the turn around the corner lit up his face enough for him to see that Scott looked tired. There were heavy bags under his eyes and his lips turned down at the edges. "I didn't want to shoot, but you were running. I had no choice."

"W-why do you want me?" Ianto choked out, gritting his teeth through the pain. He breathed deeply again, forcing himself to focus on what was going on.

Scott chuckled darkly, taking another step forward. At this point, he was so close that Ianto couldn't tilt his head far enough back to see his face, so he settled for trying not to stare at his crotch, which was directly beside his face. The Welshman looked at the shadowed wall across from him as he listened to the man's gravelly voice. "Aren't you cute?" He threaded his fingers through Ianto's hair, making his skin squirm. "I don't want _you_, actually. I just need you as bait. I could have used anyone, but you were the best choice."

Ianto closed his eyes, pained for a reason other than his leg. "Bait for what?" He tried to think of something this man might want. Something from Torchwood, obviously, but what? The Resurrection Glove? But it only kept someone alive for a few moments; it would hardly be worth all this trouble. He could easily get high-tech weaponry somewhere else, so he most likely wasn't bargaining for some guns. Ianto searched his memory for anything that would be worth it, but he couldn't think clearly enough.

"I want your lovely friend," he started, but Ianto knew the answer before he even finished his sentence. His stomach dropped. "I want Jack Harkness."

* * *

"Jack Harkness, you get your bloody hands off of me," Owen growled fiercely, writhing under the man's grip as he was lowered through the manhole into the sewer. When his feet hit pavement he strutted out of the way, cradling his medical equipment in both arms. Behind him he heard sniggering, and when he turned both Gwen and Toshiko had innocent looks on their faces. "Laugh all you want, ladies. Maybe I won't be there next time you get shot." Gwen just rolled her eyes as the Japanese woman hid a smile.

"Focus, you three," Jack snapped as he dropped down beside them. "We're here to find Ianto." He raised a gun and a flashlight and pointed them down the sloped tunnel, hardly batting an eye before taking off at a steady pace. The others followed closely behind, Owen trailing at the back with his equipment held precariously in one arm and holding his gun with his free hand.

They went on like this for what seemed to Owen like forever, peering down tunnels, arguing about which way to go, checking instruments for any signs, and walking. They never stopped walking. He started to fall behind, and jogged to catch up, his foot plunging into a puddle of what he told himself was mud, even though he was a doctor and he could _definitely_ tell what that was.

"This is absolute bullshit," he muttered, scraping his shoe against the concrete floor.

"Actually, I'd say that's Weevil." Owen looked up to see Toshiko smiling politely at him, though he could see a gleam of pride at her own joke in her eyes.

"You know what, Tosh?" He smiled cynically, making her expression drop in disappointment. "I think—"

"_Hurry up_!" Both team members' heads shot up at the sound of Jack's voice. Their boss was glaring back at them, Gwen beside him nearly twenty meters ahead. They shared a glance at each other then sped up to catch them, staying silent as they walked.

* * *

"So where is your precious Jack? Hmm?" Scott had kneeled down in front of Ianto, his breath hot on his sweat-stained cheeks. The Welshman had briefly considered kicking him with his good leg, but he knew that (a) it would be a terrible shot from this angle, (b) Scott had a gun tucked in his belt that he could easily, and would willingly, use, and (c) he needed to find out why he wanted Jack. Whether it be an old grudge or a strange infatuation, Ianto felt he should investigate. Scott Walker didn't seem like the typical bloke.

"I don't know," he answered simply, and it honestly wasn't a lie. He assumed the team knew he was missing– God, he wasn't _that_ unremarkable, was he? – but he wasn't positive if they knew where he was. _He_ wasn't positive where he was; it was too dark to make anything out other than sloped walls and pipes. He could be anywhere.

"Well, _I_ know where he is," Scott continued, reaching forward with a large hand to caress Ianto's cheek. He tried to ignore the revulsion at the knuckle that grazed against his jaw, keeping a blank face and tight lips. "He's in here now, with the team. They're looking for you, Ianto," he said, as if in warning. He looked at him with cold, dark eyes, his expression grave as the back of his fingers came to rest on his cheek. "They just need some help to find you."

The man stood and backed away a few paces, staring at the captive like he was a piece of meat. Ianto felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in anticipation and fear as he was scrutinized silently for some time. Sharp eyes raked over his body, past his sore arms, over his tattered clothing, and down to his distorted legs. He was so shaken by being watched this intensely he almost forgot his composure. He cleared his throat and adjusted his wrists, wincing as the metal handcuffs dug farther into his skin.

"What do you want with Jack?" he started, trying his best to act like he wasn't bothered by any of this. His pulsing leg, the gashed skin at his wrists, the throbbing heartbeat pounding away throughout his entire body. All of it hurt, but he hoped he looked calm on the outside. "He's just an ordinary guy; why would you go to this trouble for one guy?"

"No," Scott replied, his voice stern. "Don't play stupid. We both know why Jack Harkness is no ordinary man." He stepped forward, suddenly severe. "I have seen him slaughtered, shot, and ripped apart on more than one occasion. And after it all, he stands up and walks off." He kneeled down in front of Ianto, glaring at him with hard eyes. "Don't you _dare_ look at me and tell me he is a regular man. Your dear Captain is anything but, and he doesn't deserve to be treated as anything other than remarkable. Do not play idiot and pretend he is ordinary. Do you understand me?"

Ianto's throat had seemed to dry and swell as Scott continued to speak, so he could only nod meekly in response.

"Good," he rumbled, seeming to blink away his anger in a flash. His hand came up to rest on the captive's cheek, his fingertips cold and hard against the skin. His nails scratched lightly, and he tilted his head, as if strongly fascinated. "You know," he mused, "I don't understand what he sees in you. You're a secretary. A coffee boy. There's absolutely nothing remarkable about you." He squinted, then pushed himself up so he was standing above Ianto. "To each his own, I guess. I don't really care, though, as long as you get him here."

"What do you expect me to do?" Ianto queried, straining his neck to catch a glimpse of Scott. The man's teeth glinted in the faint light as he grinned menacingly. His knee bent and his foot came up a little ways, hovering over Ianto's injured leg.

"Sing." Scott's foot came down, and a snap echoed through the quiet tunnel, followed by a deafening scream.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jack Harkness had heard far too many screams in his lifetime. Whether they were from enemies in battle crying out their final insult, or from friends who begged for mercy against a rival. He had heard mothers shouting out for their children in the face of death, and grown men break down and shriek in surrender. He had witnessed little girls let out earsplitting hollers because they were scared of what was to come, and he had heard more than one of them cut off in the middle. The Captain had seen and heard every kind of scream there was, and he knew exactly what kind he was hearing now, and exactly who it came from.

"_Ianto_!" Jack's strangled cry came echoing through the tunnel, making Ianto unsure of where the captain was coming from and how far away he was. Really, he wasn't paying much attention to it anyway; he was just trying not scream again. Afraid to look down at his leg, he kept his eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily through his teeth. He wasn't ignorant, though. He had heard the snap as plain as day. He had felt the crushing bone beneath Scott's foot, and the warmth of fresh blood seeping through his pant leg. Basically… fuck.

"They always come willingly in the end," Scott nearly trilled, chuckling at his own private joke, "like sheep to the slaughter." He let out a bark of a laugh, backing away from Ianto to lean on the wall opposite him. It seemed that Scott, like Ianto's leg, had snapped. "The ones who are so willing to give up their lives are always the ones who end up doing so, you know? It's the fighters who survive. The ones who stare death in the face and refuse to give in. Those are the people who deserve to live." He pointed a long arm towards the open end of the tunnel. "Your friend _Jack_," he spat the name like it was an obscenity, "lays his life out like it's a toy. He doesn't deserve what he has. He doesn't understand life. Its meaning, its worth… He throws it away like an idiot. He doesn't deserve…" Scott turned away in frustration, disappearing in the darkness. When he came back out, Ianto opened his eyes long enough to see a black, metal item in his hand. A gun.

"Are… you going to… shoot me?" Ianto gasped out between painfully clenched teeth. He held back a moan, clamping and relaxing his hands over and over. He really didn't care anymore. Actually, he kind of hoped Scott would shoot him.

"Of course not." He replied, looking at Ianto like he had asked something insane. "I have no intention of killing you. Ianto," he said, almost kindly, kneeling down beside him, "you've been very helpful throughout this entire thing. Really, I couldn't have done it without you." He smiled, placing a hand on the injured man's cheek. "Thank you." He stood, and stepped in front of Ianto, cocking the gun. Scott looked down one more time before sliding a foot over to Ianto's. He flicked his shoe slightly, making Ianto's entire leg jostle. He screamed unintentionally.

Beyond the pounding in his ears, Ianto could make out the sound of running feet coming closer. He wanted to call out, to warn Jack, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was another strangled cry. A white-hot jolt ran up his leg from his splintered bone, making the muscles in his back clench painfully. He rolled his head back and forth on the concrete wall, knowing he wasn't breathing, and knowing he should be trying to, but unable to pull any air into his lungs. He dragged the air into his throat with a loud, gurgling noise, but that's as far as it would go. After a minute, he could feel the burn beneath his chest as well as in his leg. His eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at anything. The only thing on his mind was the pain that kept getting worse. The bone fragments cut into the muscle in his leg, tearing away at the flesh. His heart kept getting louder, shuddering and beating to an erratic song. The burn grew in his lungs, and the more he tried to bring in air, the more it hurt. His lungs seemed to cave in on themselves, shrinking and contracting without anything to nourish them.

An echoing bang barely drew away Ianto's attention. The thump of a dead body crumpling down right beside him did the trick a little more. He tilted his head enough to take in Jack's body. The captain's face rested in a dark red pool that grew larger with the gushing stream of blood and brain fragments that came from the bullet hole in his right eye. His other eye was wide open, staring off into nothing. Ianto gasped, finally getting air into his aching lungs. It burned on the way in, expanding his tightened chest. He looked away from Jack, trying to ease his suddenly quick breath.

"Bull's-eye," Scott muttered proudly, smiling down at Jack. For good measure, Ianto supposed, he pointed the gun again, aiming for the back of the captain's head, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Where the fuck did he go?" Owen asked, breathing heavily. He set his medical equipment on a dry patch of concrete, bending over to catch his breath. The three of them, Owen, Tosh, and Gwen, had tried to catch up with their boss when he took off sprinting away, but they had lost him after just a few seconds. They had all heard Ianto's painful scream echoing through the tunnels, but only Jack had responded without a second's hesitation, running off into a tunnel without waiting to see if the team was following.

"Who knows?" Gwen replied, hands on hips. Only seconds after the words left her lips, a sharp crack split the air, and the three of them glanced at each other, exchanging nods. Wherever Jack was, he just got shot, per usual. Wherever Jack was, he was in trouble. And wherever Jack was, they were going to find him. Gwen raised her gun and her flashlight, pointing it down a dark tunnel. Behind her, Owen and Tosh raised their guns in response and followed in silence.

Not five minutes had passed before the three of them stopped dead in their tracks, flashlights pointed in the same direction.

"Oh, God," Gwen whispered, while the other two gaped silently.

Owen was the only one out of the three of them that didn't visibly cringe at the dead body. Admittedly, he gagged a bit at the horrid smell of decay, but he didn't let anyone else know it. Tosh covered her mouth with a shaky hand and stepped back, moving the beam of light from her flashlight away, as if that would make it disappear. Gwen muttered something under her breath and closed her eyes tightly, gaining the courage to look again.

Shoved into a corner, out of the way, a dead Weevil stared up at them with empty eyes. Its mouth was half open in a snarl, and various insects were buzzing and crawling in and out of the open maw. Its arms were pulled up close to the body for protection, and the fingers curled toward the ground in a defensive way, the tips of which were completely gone, scraped away on the abrasive ground. The smell, they assumed, was mostly coming from what was spilling out of the hole in its head. Presumably made by several gunshots to the head, the hole was large enough that the majority of the Weevil's brain had fallen out onto the concrete ground and been eaten away at by God-knows what. A dried, red stain was nearly three feet around the body, spotlighting it on the otherwise pale floor. The blood had spilled from the head wound, along with from the mouth and eye sockets, creating a monstrous sight for the three of them to take in. It looked like it had been screaming, crying blood, and digging desperately at the ground for salvation. It was a pitiful, horrifying sight.

"Let's keep going," Owen suggested after a while, and forced himself to turn away. They didn't talk about it for the rest of the time, but each of them was thinking about it the entire way. No wonder the Weevils were coming out of the sewers. They weren't just being chased away from their home; they were being slaughtered.

* * *

Beside Ianto, Jack breathed back to life, gasping in desperately and jerking his limbs violently. He looked around with wide eyes, remembering where he was and what happened. When his eyes fell on Ianto to his right, he looked panicked momentarily, then regained his composure, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly and surely. He wriggled his arms, looking up when he realized he couldn't pull his arms down. Like Ianto's, his hands were cuffed to the pipe above him, and his legs were arranged out in front of him uncomfortably. His legs, however, weren't in as bad a shape as the other's were. He almost gasped audibly when he looked over at Ianto's leg, bloody and broken, snapped in half at the calf and unmoving.

"Ianto…" The Welshman shook his head, cutting Jack off.

"Don't start. Scott left a few minutes ago, and there's no telling when he'll be back. We probably don't have much time, Jack; talk fast." Jack could hear the pain in his voice; the slight whimper when he took in a breath, the cracks and drops in his tone when he spoke, and the strangled and clipped way he talked gave it away. He wanted so badly to point it out, but it wouldn't have helped anything. Ianto was right, and he had to get them out before he could do anything to help his leg.

"Fine," he said through his teeth. "What's going on?" It seemed like a fairly basic question that summed up everything he needed to know. What he had really wanted to ask was _What did he do to you? _so he'd know exactly just how much he needed to make this Scott Walker hurt before he killed the man.

Ianto inhaled deeply before he spoke, seeming to steel himself, which only made Jack angrier. "Scott Walker knows about you. He knows you can't die, and for some reason, he wants you. I don't know why or for what, but he does." He paused, regaining his breath discreetly. Or, rather, he assumed he was doing it discreetly. Jack watched as Ianto breathed heavily from his nose, looking down to hide the crease in his brow. He let out a small stream of air from his mouth, then looked back up, his face completely blank.

"Ianto," he started, trying to control his own voice, "what did he do to you?" Ianto opened his mouth to answer, most likely something passive and unhelpful, but both were diverted by the entrance of a large being. Jack immediately recognized the wide shoulders of the man from the CCTV footage, and he instinctively pulled at the cuffs around his wrists.

"Jack Harkness," Scott said, and his voice was anything but what Ianto had expected. From how he had talked about the captain earlier, he expected an awed voice, or at least some sort of excitement. Instead, there was almost a pure hatred there. As he said the name, the repulsion was obvious, and the glare he sent toward Jack was one of abhorrence. "Do you remember me? Probably not; I've grown a bit since then. You, on the other hand," he tilted his head and squinted his eyes, his glare hot enough to burn the captain to ash. "You haven't changed at all. You don't look a day older than when we first met."

"Who are you?" Jack interjected what he assumed would be a long speech from the other man, just wanting to get himself and Ianto out as safely and as quickly as possible.

"Scott Walker," he said, as if that should clear up everything.

"I am sorry," Jack said slowly, and it was obvious he meant it, "but I have no idea who you are. You've got the wrong guy, Scott. Please," he paused, leaning forward as best as he could, "just let us go."

"I don't have the wrong guy," he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"Yes, you do. I— "

"Jack Harkness, if you say another word I will break your coffee boy's one good leg." Scott clenched his fists, and the Welshman instinctively braced himself for more pain. "Do you understand?" The captain opened his mouth to defend Ianto, but quickly thought better of it. His mouth hardened into a thin line and he nodded carefully. "Good," Scott exhaled, calming down a bit. "Now," he said, "there's someone I want you to meet." He backtracked a few paces into the lit tunnel around the corner, out of sight, and as he came back in a few moments later, the squeak of old metal moving gently was accented by the tunnel walls.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: **Flashback chapter! I put it in italics to emphasize that it's different, but if you guys have trouble reading it like that (or you just hate it) let me know and I'll make it normal text.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_1987_

_Everything seemed too white, too cold, and too quiet. Hospitals were always like that at first, though. It was the fifth time Scott had been to the hospital now, so he could see what the building really was, and feel what was really there. _

_He had been in this tiny room so many times, he had noticed everything there was to it. The first time he had entered it, he thought everything was sterile and polished, glistening white and spotless. Now, he could see the stain in the upper right corner of the wall where there had been a leak. And the scuffs near the bottom of the wall, behind the chairs, where the legs rubbed up against them. _

_The first time he had sat down in the plastic chair against the wall, Scott had had goose bumps it was so cold. The AC blew right on his head from the ceiling, and the whiteness gave him the sense of winter and ice. Now, the room felt too small. Now, he felt claustrophobic, and it made him nervous and hot. Sometimes, he had a hard time breathing. Though it might have just been his nerves. Either way, he always left the hospital sweating._

_He had always felt that the hospital was eerily silent. The receptionists sat quietly, awaiting the next patient to sign in. and even when they did sign in, the person behind the desk spoke in hushed tones. The nurses spoke softly, and walked with a quiet grace through the halls. The doctors never seemed to talk at all unless they were asking questions, and even then they talked briefly, using as little words as possible. Now, Scott could cock his head to the side and hear a plethora of chaotic noise. A nurse was clicking a pen and smacking her gum, a child in the lobby was crying obnoxiously, and directly to his left, his father was tapping his toes to some unknown song. It was _loud_ in the hospital, and he wondered how he could not have heard all this noise before. _

_The doctors were especially surprising to him. Where he used to think they hardly spoke at all, he now knew they never shut up. They were always coming in with a clipboard and bad news. And what was worse is they made their speeches as wordy as possible, fitting in language that was hardly English. Half the time Scott couldn't even follow what they were saying, but still they talked, on and on. Whatever it was they were saying, it couldn't have been good. His father buried his face in his hands, and his mother, from on the table in the center of the room, covered her mouth to stifle a sob. _

_He wanted to tell them all to shut up. Why did the doctors have to come in here and make his parents upset? What gave them the right? Couldn't they just leave them alone? Every time they came into this stupid hospital they left crying; his mother especially. Something was the matter with her, apparently. But she was fine until they started coming to the hospital. Scott just wanted to tell his parents to stop coming here. Then they'd be happy, right? There'd be no more doctors coming in with their dumb clipboards to give bad news. They could just be a happy, healthy family again._

_Beside him, Scott's little sister started to cry. The toddler had flopped onto the ground once she noticed her mother crying, taking that as a cue for her own fit. She fisted the air in front of her, urging someone to pick her up. The doctor and Scott's mother didn't even seem to hear the whining, deep in their own conversation. His father, however, sighed and looked up from his hands._

"_Scott, take Mae outside for a while," he ordered, his eyes red. Scott nodded, a lump forming in his throat. This was the first time he had seen his father tear up, and it scared him more than anything. He jumped from his chair and grabbed his sister's little hand, perhaps a bit too hard, and dragged her from the room._

_Once outside the room, the real chaos of the hospital was finally apparent. Two nurses hurried past him, almost in a run. They returned quickly, pushing a stretcher and yelling incoherent nonsense. Above the rattling of the wheels, the moan of the injured man rose up, and he turned his head to the side, revealing the half of his face that was severely singed and bleeding. The group rushed away in seconds, leaving behind the stench of burnt flesh. Not two seconds later, the clatter of another stretcher began to grow. Scott pressed his back against the wall behind him, holding his breath as another victim was rushed by. This one looked even worse than the last. _

"_Come on, Mae," he said as calmly as possible, tugging the sniffling toddler along. He headed in the opposite direction of the burn victims, hoping to get the smell out of his nose. He just wanted some fresh air. Unfortunately, he wasn't positive how to get to the front door from where he was. He led his sister along with him, staring down corridors and opening double doors in hopes of finding the lobby. After a few minutes, he was sure that, if anything, he had only gotten himself more lost. _

_At the sound of a door opening, Scott turned around, seeing a nurse enter the hallway from a quiet room. He was about to ask her for help, but the look on her face stopped him. Instead, he backed away behind a cabinet to watch. She seemed sad, but not devastated. Almost… disappointed. She marked something on a clipboard hanging by the door and looked around. She caught the eye of a coworker and nodded solemnly._

"_Must've passed away before anyone could get to him," she said. "Don't suppose you can help me clear the room?" _

"_Can't," her coworker replied. "I have to get this down to Dr. Brigg." She shrugged apologetically and walked away, leaving the nurse to go find other help. When she was out of sight, Scott stepped forward. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and, unable to control his curiosity, walked into the room. _

_Without even the steady bleep of a heart monitor, the room was eerily silent. The lights were on, but the blinds on the window were closed, and the room was lit only by the unnatural fluorescents. A chemical smell burned the odor of charred flesh from Scott's nose, and he wasn't sure if it was better or worse. _

_He tugged on his sister's wrist, pulling her along closer to the unmoving mass on the bed resting against the wall. He stopped a few paces away, holding his breath. The figure on the bed was a man who looked on the verge of middle-age. He was lying on his bed face-up, his eyes closed in permanence and his graying lips slightly parted, neither taking in nor letting out any air. It was the first time Scott had actually seen a corpse in real life, despite how many times he'd been in the hospital. The skin was ashen and smooth, and the brunette hair looked spiky and brittle. He had the sudden urge to reach forward and feel if the body was as cold as people rumored them to be. Would anyone care? He quickly glanced over his shoulder; there was no one there. If no one saw it, then he couldn't get in trouble. Scott stepped forward, his feet clicking softly on the ground. His hand reached forward tentatively, slowly reaching for the cheek, which looked soft and, he wondered, possibly cold. _

_Suddenly, the corpse on the table jerked violently, his eyes snapping open and his mouth gaping in a wide 'O' so he could suck in a loud, jagged breath. Scott gasped and retracted his hand, and beside him, Mae let out a high scream. He shushed her absently, staring wide-eyed at the person on the hospital bed who, just a second ago, had been dead. The man breathed heavily for a moment before calming down and rubbing his eyes. Scott felt like he should turn and run, but his feet felt like they were bolted to the floor. _

_The man sat up in the hospital bed and let out a low groan, squinting as he looked around the room. When his eyes fell on the two kids staring up at him, he chuckled. "I don't suppose _you_ know why I'm here, huh?" Scott could only shake his head slowly; his tongue felt too dry to form any words, and his throat felt constricted and useless. The man sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wriggling his toes and stretching his limbs. He hopped off with a muffled thump and walked stiffly towards the door, one hand holding his head as he moaned quietly about a headache. _

"_Wait!" Scott called before he could think about what he was doing. As the man turned back around, he could feel his heart beat erratically in his chest, and he wondered what he had even wanted to say. "You were just dead," he muttered, figuring that summed up his feeling pretty well. _

"_Bad night," he replied with a shrug._

"_And now you're alive." Scott thought he should be winning an award for pointing out the most obvious things in a situation. Still, it was nice to get it out loud, so he could at least _hear _how insane this was. _

"_Yeah," he said cheerlessly, "that happens a lot." He was about to turn away again, but Scott stepped forward and held out his hand._

"_Please, wait," he begged, and the man turned back to him, looking slightly unnerved. He pulled his hand back and looked at the floor, his mouth suddenly dry again. "My mom," he muttered, "she… she's going to die." He looked back up, expecting to see the flash on pity that he always found in adult's eyes when he said this. There wasn't even a twitch from this man; he just looked eager to leave. "Please help her."_

_The man's eyes rolled, "Look, kid—"_

"_Scott. My name is Scott."_

"_Fine, Scott," he sighed and looked away, not making eye contact. "I can't help your mom. Sorry." From his tone, Scott didn't think he was sorry at all. He thought he was a selfish liar. He wouldn't even look him in the eye!_

"_You're just going to let her die?" Scott could feel his face turning red, and all the pent up emotions from the news about his mother started to surface. Why did she have to die, when this jerk got to live? _

"_I can't." The man leaned forward a little, his face stern._

"_Yes you can, you liar!" Scott clenched his fists, his throat tightening again, but this time for a different reason. "You were dead just a minute ago, and now you're just fine. Do that to my mom. Please!" His voice cracked, and his eyes started to water. Despite his attempt to look forceful, he could feel his bottom lip quivering pathetically. _

"_You listen to me," he ordered, stooping lower to stare Scott dead in the eye. His voice was low and menacing, his face severe. "If your mom is going to die, then she's going to die. It's better if she stays that way, do you understand? The less people like me walking around, the better." He stood abruptly and left, leaving Scott to hiccup quietly as he tried not to cry. _

_From outside the room, he could hear the man walking off quickly, and the surprised shout of a woman. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, and from the voice, Scott could tell it was the nurse from earlier, the one who went to get help to clear the room. "Mr. Harkness?" She called, and the sound of a door slamming open followed immediately. "Jack Harkness!" Running feet and falling objects followed that, and all went calm when the nurse left in pursuit. _

_Jack Harkness. Scott stored the name for later, a cold pit growing in his stomach. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Scott stooped to one knee in front of the wheelchair, taking hold of one of her frail hands. It was so small in his, nearly half the size; it was cold and damp, and curled limply in his own. Still, he could feel the steady pulse of her heart beating in her wrist. That slow thump meant she was still fighting, and she was still in this with him. And if she could still fight for this, despite her condition, then he could damn well march in there and figure out Jack Harkness for her. He gave her fragile hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze, though she didn't return the act. But the glint in her eyes, the one he used to see when he was little, told him that she was as in this as he was.

A smile crept over his lips as he looked up to her. "This," he whispered, something beginning to swell in his chest. "This is it. We're going to save you, like I promised." The half of her mouth that she still had a little control over quirked up, giving him that crooked smile he adored. He placed her hand back on her lap and walked behind the chair, gripping the bars so tightly he was afraid they'd break.

This was the moment he had spent his entire life preparing for. He had worked his way to the top of his field for his entire life, fighting for equipment he could use, for the knowledge that would bring him here. He had tracked down Jack Harkness for years, and now he had him in the palm of his hand, ready to be molded into a cure. Scott took a deep breath and leaned forward. The squeak of the old wheels echoed through the tunnels as he pushed her around the corner to face Jack and Ianto.

The two men stared at her exactly the way that killed Scott. Mouths open and eyes wide, they looked her up and down, staring at the chair like it was some growth coming off her back. And she, being patient as ever, let them watch her like a freak show, just like she always did. Scott had half a mind to cripple the two men just to see how they liked being stared at constantly.

"Is that him?" She piped up, her words gargled and hard to understand to anyone but Scott. He nodded his head and pushed her a little closer so she could take a look.

"Jack Harkness," he said calmly, "meet my little sister, Mae."

"Nice to meet you, Mae," he said, still studying her appearance. Scott wanted to reach forward and snap his neck, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. Jack tilted his head and looked up at him. "Am I supposed to know her, too?"

Scott smiled amusedly. "No, I suppose not. She was there when we met, but she didn't do the talking. And, granted, she's changed a lot since then. Unfortunately, it was for the worse." He placed a hand on her shoulder, his brow furrowing minutely. "You know, you and Mae are more similar than you'd think, Jack. How many people do you think are immortal? My guess is not many. You're one a million, you are." He moved to stand directly in front of Jack, putting his hands into his pockets. "Do you know, statistically, what percentage of people get ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease, through genetics?" He paused, not really waiting for an answer, though. "Ten percent. Ten percent, out of the thousands who get the disease. And even with that miniscule chance, Mae happened to inherit ALS through her mother." He leaned forward. "The two of you are very unique."

Jack glanced back over to Mae, who was sitting silently and watching it all play out. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Jack," he spat, taking his hands out of his pockets to point a finger at him, "I want you to know what you put us through. I want you to know what you did to our family." Scott crossed his arms and started to make his way slowly around the space, disappearing into the shadows and reappearing every once in a while. "I was ten when my mom was diagnosed with ALS; thirteen when she actually passed away. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that I was watching my mom die right before my eyes. What was worse was that the doctors kept giving her medication to slow the process down." He chuckled darkly. "It could have been so much quicker for her, but instead they stretched it out over three years, letting her rot away helplessly.

"And you were obviously no help. You just let it happen. I was _ten_, and I had to watch my mom shrivel up and die." Scott appeared from out of a dark corner, his face grave. "She choked on her own spit because she couldn't swallow properly. I had to watch while she drowned, all the while completely conscious." He shook his head and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "I asked for help, and you let her die," his voice grew soft, then he suddenly lunged toward Jack, his heart beating in his throat. "_You killed her_!" Scott backed up a little ways, letting himself relax.

"So imagine my horror when I got a phone call from my father, explaining to me that Mae had a gene so rare, the doctors wanted to take notes. That she had ALS, and she was terminal. That I was going to have to watch my little sister _waste away_, just like my mother.

"I'm not going through that again," he muttered. "I _will not_ let you kill Mae. So either you willingly help her get better, or I'll make you." His jaw set like stone, and he glared at the captain. Jack said nothing in response, but the look on his face said everything. "You will help her," he ordered, unease growing in his mind.

"Nothing can be—"

"Help her."

"I can't!" Jack shouted loudly, his voice reverberating against the walls. "I don't know what you want me to do!"

"Fine," Scott said, turning away. "Then I'll just have to get the answer from your DNA. I know a nice laboratory where I can dissect you." He glanced over his shoulder. "How's that sound?"

"You don't think I've had people do tests on me before? You don't think I've tried to find out what the hell my body is doing?" Scott paused, wanting the answer to be no. "I've been a lab rat before, and believe me, there's nothing. It can't be applied; it's not helpful. I'm sorry," he apologized slowly, and something in Scott snapped. He turned around and stepped forward, kicking Ianto's mangled leg out of frustration. Both shackled men shouted; Ianto out of unbearable pain, and Jack out of unbearable rage. The shouting continued, so Scott took the bars of Mae's wheelchair in his hands, wanting to get her some place quiet so she could rest.

"_Nobody move_," a harsh Welsh accent ordered from around the corner, making everyone freeze. The screaming ceased, but Ianto was breathing out of his mouth, whimpering quietly in pain. Jack forced out a short laugh at Scott, who in return shot him a glare over his shoulder. There was the sound of several feet moving quickly across the cement floor, then three familiar faces appeared at the end of the tunnel, guns held out in front of them. Gwen, who had shouted the warning, was at the head of the group. As Scott reached for something tucked in his belt, she pointed the weapon directly at his head. "I said don't move."

* * *

When Gwen had turned the corner to face the people she had heard, she wasn't sure what she was expecting. Part of her had assumed Jack had gotten himself into some sort of trouble, as he usually did when he ran off in a hurry. Another part of her was momentarily shocked that he had managed to get himself cuffed to the wall by only one person. Granted, that person was as big as a whale, but it was still Jack, and he could usually handle situations like this.

She almost smiled a little when she saw Jack, happy that he was at least uninjured, but she quickly stopped herself when she saw the sweating figure next to him. Ianto looked like absolute hell. His face was dirty and deathly pale, and through the faint light she could see some disfigured limb that she couldn't bring herself to stare at for too long. His eyes were closed, but the clench in his jaw and his heavy breathing made it obvious he was still conscious.

Gwen wrenched her eyes away from the two men and stared directly ahead of her, at the goliath in the front. He looked furious and heartbroken at the same time, and she almost allowed herself a moment to feel bad for him. She looked at what he was holding in front of him, and she furrowed her brow, looking at the others to see their reactions. Tosh seemed uncertain whether or not to point a gun at the girl in the wheelchair, and Owen just seemed concerned for her, lowering his gun and squinting at her through the dark.

"Jack," Gwen spoke after a few seconds, "are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists. "Just get me out of these things." Tosh nodded and slipped past the tall man and the woman, reaching down and easily picking the lock. The handcuffs clattered to the ground, and Jack shot up, heading straight for the man. Despite being several inches shorter than him, Jack managed to rip him away from the wheelchair and pin him against the nearest wall.

"Understand this," he nearly growled. "I don't give a damn what you need or want, but when you go after my friends to get to me," he leaned in close, his voice almost a whisper, "I'm not happy." He pulled back before shoving him once, hard, into the concrete wall, and the man tumbled down the floor, unconscious. "Let's get him to the Hub," he muttered darkly. Jack turned away and kneeled down beside Ianto, whose handcuffs Tosh had already removed. "Let's get you back, too," he said softly, sliding his arms underneath the man. When he moved to pick him up, though, Ianto cried out loudly, cringing away from the movement.

"Jack, we have a problem," Gwen said, stepping forward. Jack adjusted his grip on Ianto, trying to pick him up again, but he shouted out in pain once more, trying to push away from the captain weakly. "Jack…" When the captain looked like he was about to try again, Owen stepped around Gwen and grabbed his shoulder tightly.

"He can't be moved like that; we need a wheelchair or a stretcher." Owen pushed Jack aside and slid down to stoop beside the injured leg. He didn't even try to touch it, but just silently looked at the stained pants before standing up. He didn't have to be a doctor to tell how bad a shape Ianto was in.

"Alright," Jack said, "let's go get one." When he began to walk away, Owen grabbed him by the shoulder again, sighing.

"We can't just yet," he muttered, gesturing to the unconscious man on the ground, then to the girl in the wheelchair. "We need to get him to the Hub before he wakes up, and in my professional opinion, she should not be left alone." He shrugged slightly, looking at everyone in turn. "Once we do that, we can come back for Ianto." They all knew it was true, but Jack was the only who seemed entirely pissed off about it.

"I'm not leaving him here," Jack nearly growled through his teeth.

"Someone will stay here with him until we get back," Gwen piped up, shooting a glance toward Ianto. His eyes were closed, and his fingers were fisted on his thighs tightly.

"_I_ will stay here with him," Jack insisted, already turning to the injured man.

"Jack, how the hell do you expect us to get this mammoth," he pointed to Scott, "and this girl back without you? I've got too much fucking equipment to carrying anyone, and Tosh can't lift a box of files without breaking out into a sweat." Toshiko frowned and looked to the others for reassurance, but Gwen just shrugged and looked away. "You have to help carry him."

"I'm not leaving Ianto," Jack repeated firmly, hardly even listening anymore.

"You can come back," Owen insisted, and when the captain started to shake his head, he grunted loudly. "You have to go."

Suddenly Toshiko stepped forward. "This is like one of those old riddles," she said.

The three others turned their heads and in unison got a strange look on their faces, asking "What?" Toshiko smiled nervously and nodded.

"Like when we were children and teachers gave us problem-solving riddles." When no one replied, she went on. "'You have a fox, a rabbit, and a head of lettuce, and you must get all three across a river. You can only take one across at a time, but the fox cannot be left alone with the rabbit, and the rabbit cannot be left alone with the lettuce.' We just need to figure out who stays, who goes, and who comes back." Everyone turned to look at Jack, and he hesitated a moment before sighing.

"Fine," he muttered, "but I'm coming back for him." No one argued; in fact, they were just happy they didn't have to heft the goliath back by themselves. "Who's staying with him?" Heads collectively turned to Toshiko, and she frowned slightly, thinking.

"Well," she said softly, "I think Owen would be the best choice." At the scoff from the doctor, she continued, defending her statement. "You have too much equipment to help carry anyone anyway, and while you're here you can start looking at Ianto's leg." There was no arguing with the logic, so Owen nodded, though he didn't look entirely happy. He set his gear down a little ways away from Ianto and watched as they headed out. "I'll push…" Toshiko looked down at the small girl in the chair, who looked frightened.

"Mae," Jack muttered sadly. "Her name is Mae." Toshiko grabbed the handlebars of Mae's chair and pushed, Gwen and Jack following close behind, grunting slightly with the effort of holding up the grown man. When they were gone, Owen sat down beside Ianto, his back up against the wall.

"You know," he sighed, "I was never really good at riddles." He glanced over to Ianto, who breathed out slowly through his mouth before looking up at Owen. His whole face was contorted painfully, and his body was tense.

"Really?" He managed to get out, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Could've fooled me." The strain in his voice couldn't mask the sarcasm, and he chuckled quietly.

"Shut up," Owen replied harshly, though he laughed in response. Without another word, he set to work on the leg.

* * *

The moment the heavy metal door moved out of the way, Jack was nearly sprinting in. Gwen grunted, trying to keep up while holding the upper half of Scott Walker's unconscious form. Toshiko followed them, pushing the wheelchair with Mae gently through the door frame and down a slope. She brought the chair to a stop near her computer, not sure where else to put her until Owen came back to help.

"Alright, I'm going to get a gurney and go back," Jack announced, dropping the lower half of Scott and taking off. Gwen almost collapsed with the weight of the man, holding her breath to heft him back up a little on her own.

"Don't worry about me, Jack," she breathed laboriously, starting to drag him towards the cells. "I've got him." She grunted loudly, wanting to make point. The captain wasn't even paying attention, but instead was shoving a gurney along the floor, an urgent look on his face. Gwen rolled her eyes and kept moving, dragging the body along. The longer she dragged him, the harder it seemed. It was almost like she was barely going anywhere at all with him after a few more steps. When she looked down at him, Gwen almost screamed or jumped away. Unfortunately, she didn't have the breath or time to do either.

Scott pushed himself up off the ground, using Gwen for leverage. With his hand holding her, she couldn't move away, and he was moving too quickly for her to react properly. Before she could do anything useful, he was behind her, holding her body to his. His arm was wrapped tightly around her, holding her arms down at her sides. A quiet but definitive click sounded, and the others in the room turned to look at Scott, holding a gun— Gwen's own gun— to her head.

Jack lunged forward, but Scott pressed the gun harder to her temple in warning, and he backed away reluctantly. "Let her go," he pressed.

"Not until you cure Mae," Scott said, looking slightly crazed and very tired. He had the face of a man who had nowhere left to turn, nothing left to do but take a shot in the dark. Gwen's face was blank, but her eyes gave away how worried she was. She was in the hands of a man with nothing to lose.

"I already told you I can't," Jack yelled, losing all patience with him. "Now _let her go!_"

"I'm not going to let you fucking kill her. Not this time! I won't let you," Scott's hand started to shake, and Gwen was afraid he'd pull the trigger by accident. Her heart started to pound furiously in her chest, and she looked to Jack for reassurance. He looked just as terrified and unsure of what to do as she did. "I will kill everyone here if you don't help her," he sobbed through his teeth. "Just help her. _Please_."

Toshiko stood by idly, too shocked to even move. She felt a small bump at her side suddenly, and looked down to see a shaky hand dropping back down to Mae's lap. She stooped down slowly so as not to draw attention to herself, and looked at the fragile girl. Mae was looking at her with sad eyes, her head drooped low. "What is it?" Toshiko whispered. The response was so gargled, she almost didn't understand it.

"Stop him," she repeated, more firmly this time. It was almost a plead, and Mae painstakingly lifted a hand to point to Toshiko's desk, where a gun lay hidden under some papers. She breathed out a 'please,' but it came out as only a quiet, wheezy, "Plea…" Toshiko set her mouth in a firm line and glanced at the men before nodding to Mae.

With no one facing her or particularly focused on her, Toshiko slinked over to her desk and grabbed the gun. It was already loaded and ready; she just had to shoot. She stood slowly, holding the weapon behind her back.

"Scott, killing them won't help anyone," Jack insisted, growing more uneasy as Scott's whole body trembled uneasily. "You know that. You don't have to be a murderer." Toshiko gripped the gun tightly, steadying her breath. Her heart still beat through her chest, and she was certain the others could hear it as much as she could.

"Yes I do," Scott replied, his eyes red and watery. He sucked in a harsh breath, and let out a low whine. Toshiko pulled the gun out in front of her, clicking off the safety. Still, no one turned to her. She raised the gun and pointed it at Scott. Gwen was in front of him, blocking most of his body. What if she missed and hit Gwen? What if she missed both of them and _Scott_ shot Gwen? What if she wasn't supposed to kill him? Scott could still release Gwen, right? Then she'd be killing an innocent man. Or by not shooting, she was putting everyone in danger.

Toshiko squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath before she opened them back up.

She pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Notes: **I did a lot of research on ALS for this story, but if I still got something wrong, I'm sorry.

I think there's going to be one more chapter left. I actually only have about half of it written, but I know where I'm going with it, and I'll probably be able to sum it all up there.

Again, everyone, thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews. You're all amazing!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Jack, this is ridiculous," Ianto grumbled from the bed. He had been cooped up in Jack's little space under his office for God-knows how long, and all he wanted to do was get up and move around. Instead, he had to sit in Jack's bed with his broken leg propped up on three pillows while above him, he could hear the rest of the team moving about, doing their jobs. They'd come down in shifts every so often; Owen came for medical updates, Gwen and Toshiko out of polite interest, and Jack because… Well…

"If you keep complaining, I'll break you're other leg," Jack warned teasingly, entering the room with a steaming cup of coffee. "What do you think about that?" He crawled onto the bed beside Ianto, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Ianto took the mug and sniffed tentatively; he hadn't drunk a brew that wasn't his own in years. In a way, it was a nice change.

"I think," Ianto replied, cringing away from sipping the drink, "you suck at making coffee." He set the mug on the bedside table, smiling at Jack's slightly crestfallen look. "Don't worry; I set the bar pretty high."

"Mhm," Jack nodded sarcastically, kissing him on the cheek. "I think being stuck down here for so long has made you a little cynical." His nose grazed gently up and down the trail of Ianto jaw, and his mouth rested at the space below his ear. He sucked on the soft flesh there, feeling Ianto's pulse quicken.

"Then maybe you should let me out of here," he replied in a low voice, turning his face so their noses were barely touching each other. Their breath intermingled between them, smelling like coffee.

"Oh," Jack moaned slowly, leaning to press his lips against the other's. He moved his free arm to the other side of Ianto and maneuvered so he was lying partially on top of him. "You know I can't do that," he muttered between kisses to Ianto's throat and jaw.

"Well, then," Ianto said, using his hands to pull Jack's face up to his own. He licked his lips and glanced down at Jack's own, soft lips, taking in a deep breath. "Forget about it." Ianto leaned away and grabbed the mug from the side table, taking a small sip while Jack dragged himself off with a frown.

"That was cruel," he murmured, and Ianto just smiled behind the cup of coffee.

"No, cruel is making me lie down here for two days while everyone else gets to keep busy." He set the mug aside again, discovering it hadn't started tasting better yet. "But anyway," he went on, ignoring the dejected look on Jack's face, "how's Mae?" Ianto had heard that Mae and Scott had been taken to the hospital after Toshiko shot him. Apparently Scott hadn't survived the car ride there, but Mae hadn't been too broken up about it. She had just kept repeating that it was time, and that it was fine. Once at the hospital, doctors had looked into her condition, but the results weren't exactly uplifting. She was in the last stages of the disease, and within a few hours she had started having troubles breathing.

"No better," Jack replied, his tone changing entirely. "I called the hospital this morning, and they've got her on assisted breathing. The doctors are saying she hasn't got much time left." With no family left to visit her, Jack had taken up dropping in on her at the hospital every once in a while. Ianto wasn't sure whether the visits were making the captain feel better or worse.

"Are you okay?" Ianto furrowed his brow, placing his hand over Jack's.

"Yeah," he whispered, taking a deep breath. He nodded his head firmly and smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. The Weevils are back where they should be, Scott's no longer a threat, and I have you stuck in my bed," he laughed and wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders again. "I'm better than fine; I'm great."

Ianto was quiet a moment before looking Jack in the eye. "It wasn't your fault, you know." The captain didn't reply, but he knew Jack thought it was all his fault. The broken leg, Mae on her death bed, everything. He had a tendency to make himself the center of everything wrong in the world, despite the fact that his job was to help people and save lives. "Don't beat yourself up," he advised, "please."

"I won't," he replied weakly. Ianto rested his head on his shoulder and sighed deeply, staring off at nothing in particular. "I love you."

It was weird, actually; now Ianto felt like the phrase meant more to him. Before, he had thought it was just something Jack said to everyone and everything. He figured everyone was just a tiny, insignificant blip in Jack's timeline. Each person Jack met was another "I love you" just passing through. He assumed, quite frankly, that he'd be just the same. He'd sleep with Jack for a while, then be forgotten like the rest. He knew now that he couldn't be more wrong.

The fact that Jack honestly had no recollection of Scott or Mae was, in one sense, quite heartbreaking. In the perspective of Scott, then yes, it was completely tragic. But when he looked at it from another angle, Ianto was comforted. There was this awful moment in Jack's life, one which any normal person would have remembered, but the captain forgot entirely. And why did he forget them? Because he had no attachment to them. He remembered people he loved.

_I love you…_

Ianto felt like he might sob out of relief and humiliation. Had he really let Owen get to him with two simple words? Now Fuck Buddy just sounded like a fun bedroom nickname, whereas before he had stayed up at night thinking about what it could possibly mean, and what kind of label it stamped on him. Jack loved him, and he would absolutely live on in his mind. He certainly wouldn't stay there forever, but at least for a while.

"I love you, too," he breathed, relishing the phrase for a moment before taking his head off of Jack's shoulder. He should be getting back to work upstairs anyway.

"I should be getting back to work," Jack said, though he didn't seem to want to leave. He pouted slightly and leaned in for a kiss, and Ianto complied happily. They kissed sweetly for a moment, then Ianto pulled away.

"Go," he ordered, shooing him off. If he didn't send him out now, the captain would never leave. Jack took a minute to be dramatic and sulk, but eventually began to make his way out. Ianto watched as he slowly walked off, sending a few pitiful looks over his shoulder. When he was almost gone, a sly smile grew on Ianto's face. "And buy that fax machine you promised me," he called, waiting for, and grinning when he got, the expected, loud groan that came from the captain as he left.

When he was sure Jack had gone, Ianto let his head fall back and he sighed contentedly, feeling better than he had in a very long time.

* * *

She looked so fragile. Her shoulders were narrow, and her neck looked like it'd snap in half if her head lolled forward. She had tubes everywhere, and machines bleeping noisily around her bed. Despite being a little woman made of glass, Mae seemed peaceful. Or, rather, very ready to be peaceful.

Jack walked forward, quiet as a ghost, and sat in a chair beside the hospital bed. He was shaking, but he wasn't sure why. He told himself it was the cold atmosphere of the room. It felt like someone had already died, and for once, it wasn't him.

More slowly than the steady beep of the heart monitor, Mae's milky eyes drifted open, coming to rest on the captain before her. Jack felt his stomach flip, and a hard lump stuck in his throat.

"Hi," he whispered, fearing his voice might be enough to shatter her. Mae didn't exactly reply, but her lips seemed to form the word 'hi' in response to him. After that, Jack wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't going to make small talk in Mae's last hours, but he felt the need to say _something_.

Before he could say anything more, Mae's eyes fluttered shut again and she felt asleep. He realized there wasn't much he wanted to say, really. There was a lot he wanted to do, but it was a little late for that. Instead, he reached forward and took Mae's hand in his own. It was cold and felt lifeless, limp in his own. Still, he held it gently, trying to hold back the trembling throughout his body without success.

Without any warning, the steady beep of the heart monitor flat lined. Jack drew in a sharp breath, looking at the tiny hand he held on to. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, any possible words being blocked by the painful lump in his throat.

A nurse entered the room, but he hardly noticed. Just as she began to usher him away, Jack managed to choke out the only words he ever wanted to say to the girl he never knew. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, letting himself be led away.

Outside the room, Jack could feel his eyes burning with the want to cry. The nurse placed a hand on his shoulder to sooth him. "Her lungs stopped functioning," she said gently. "She stopped breathing in her sleep. It was a very peaceful death." As if that was supposed to make everything better. The point was Jack was completely useless. He turned away, rubbing his face with his hands, one of which he swore still felt cool from Mae's chilling touch. He had to sit back and watch that poor girl die, and he couldn't do a damn thing.

Jack left the hospital, a heavy weight in his chest. He couldn't help anyone, but he sure as hell could hurt anyone. He seemed to be awfully good at that.

* * *

The saying _Survival is a game of chance, revenge is a calculated plan of action_ kept replaying itself in Jack's mind. At the moment, it was the most relevant thing in the world to him. Mae died by sheer chance, a one in a million kind of fate. And he, lucky bastard that he was, got to live on forever by that same cruel fate. It was unbelievably unfair, and absolutely uncontrollable.

But the one thing Jack still had control of, the one thing he could manipulate in this damned, fateful life, was revenge. He could put some sort of justice back into the system, which, in his eyes, was nothing but fair.

The man spread out before him on the ground, bound by his wrists, was just beginning to stir awake. Unlike his sister, Scott Walker awoke without any sort of grace, grumbling and squeezing his eyes open and closed. His shoulder was tightly bound where Toshiko had shot him; the same shot that everyone was told had killed Scott.

"Wha—"

Jack cut him off with the appearance of his gun. The tall man fell silent, panic rising on his face. "Ianto told me everything that happened in the sewers," he started, not sure if this was lifting the weight from his chest or adding to it. "However," he cocked the weapon, "I don't have to follow your exact actions." The gun pointed to Scott's leg, and two loud shots echoed out, followed by a deafening scream.

When someone falls by chance, more often than not there's somebody else that gets bruised. As evident by the growing hurt in his chest, Jack was bearing the wounds from Ianto's fall, and by chance, he had to take it out on someone else who had fallen harder than anyone.

* * *

**Notes: **Aaaaaaand that's it... Hope that wasn't too bad for a first shot at a Torchwood fic. Thank you to anyone and everyone who read this story, let alone all of the reviews and whatnot. They really do mean a lot to me. :)

I know the end could kind of be considered a bit open-ended, perhaps. When I was writing the last section, I thought about making a sequel about Jack kind of losing it or something, but I'm honestly not sure if I will. I'll just let the wind take me where I may go or whatever.

And on that lovely note, I bid you all ado.


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